The Possibility of Magic
by GeekMom
Summary: Castle Halloween Bash 2015 Entry. Richard Castle has certain abilities. If only one of them was making a particular NYPD Detective fall in love with him. Season 3. A/U. Supernatural. Grateful acknowledgement to the great and mighty wizard, Marlowe and his familiars for creating this wonderful magic. I am under their spell.
1. Belief

_A/N - Special thanks to CFPromoter for hosting this contest. Like Castle, I love this time of year. I look forward to reading many spine-tingling, bone-chilling thrillers this month._

 _Enjoy!_

 _~GeekMom_

* * *

 **The Possibility of Magic**

 **Chapter 1**

 **Belief**

Belief: an acceptance that a statement is true or confidence in the truth; or existence of something not immediately susceptible to rigorous proof; or trust, faith, or confidence in someone or something.

Rick Castle believed in magic. Why wouldn't he? He believed in unlimited possibilities, but understood the probability of limits. Because no one had ever seen a unicorn, for example, in his opinion did not negate its existence. Lack of evidence was not anti-evidence. He believed in myths, fantastic creatures, the possibility of extra-terrestrial life, Sasquatch, spirits, Nessie and Atlantis. When all of the evidence suggested a resounding no: he asked why or why not.

Convincing other people, regardless of the probabilities of fantastic possibilities everywhere around them had always been fun. First had been his mother: who was more open to the whimsy or bizarre than anyone he'd ever met. She had been raised by sleight of hand mind-readers after all. Alexis had been a challenge from the moment she was born; she was a serious person and had always been that way, although through his propensity for fun, it had wheedled its way mostly by his cajoling and had grown over the years. Her brain craved logic and understanding. Castle often pondered where she might have inherited those traits. He was working on a theory about heredity concerning his skills. Perhaps they were just the product of the ultra-tricky, ultra-mischievous universe. The universe tended that way. Beckett provided challenges he had never encountered before. It didn't stop him from trying, but she believed in nothing but the hard, cold evidence she could lock up in her boxes: physical, mental and emotional.

Castle also believed in the universal truth of karma. If you were kind, treated others well and, particularly and especially, kind towards the universe, good deeds and kindness were returned to you. Sometimes this applied to the universe, sometimes not. The universe operated within its own set of rules and laws: laws, but not as in physics. Physics were just humanity's way of explaining what they observed, heard and felt within their limited and narrow vision or experience. If humanity had any inkling of the bigger picture and just how tiny and insignificant they were, they'd all still be hiding and recoiling against the onslaught of ideas and enlightenment in the primordial sludge and would never have taken the baby steps or slithers to where they were now: barely crawling. The truth of karma worked within the limited confines of humanity, but the universe spun karma and tilted it, adding elements such as humor and irony and sometimes tragedy. Rick Castle respected the universe.

The universe brought him face to face with the love of his life and then danced and played leapfrog and hopscotch with their emotions. He respected the universe, but sometimes the universe was a jerk.

Like today: he called upon all of his training and beliefs, all his research and skill when he looked into her eyes and pulled the wires out of the bomb, but after the bone crushing, soul-reaching hug she gave him, all the congratulatory pats on the backs and the gallows' humor had been exchanged, she fell into Josh's arms and Castle went home, alone. That was where he was, considering the universe while his tumbler of scotch spun lazily at exactly the right height and distance from his grasp for him to retrieve it easily, but not need a coaster. Like everything he did, that trick was purposeful. Mundane tasks helped him to section parts of his consciousness so he wouldn't drown all of his psyche in self-pity. He was also doing laundry and re-painting his mother's bathroom.

The redheads were still in the Hamptons. He called to let them know that all was well, he was safe and the crisis averted. He suggested that since they were there, they might as well stay for the weekend and enjoy themselves. With them elsewhere, he was free to engage in a little self-indulgence: a little freedom. His mother had long since accepted his gifts, but his pragmatic and sensible Alexis absolutely freaked out if she saw something she couldn't understand, explain or research. Her books, she believed, would never fail her, but this wasn't in any books except fairy tales and tomes about myths…and monsters. Therefore, he kept a lid on it when she was near.

He loved his daughter too deeply to cause her undue stress. It had never been her fault that she wasn't given the ability. He had tried many experiments when she was younger to see if she possessed any of his discovered talents, but no. He postulated that it was due to her red hair. His mother, while not gifted either, had always been open minded and aware of the possibilities, ready to embrace and accept the unknown. His grandmother had been a practitioner as well and Martha had experienced the art first hand. The red hair theory also meant that he could blame it on Meredith. It's why he stuck with the theory, even in the face of logic and reason. Logic and reason were not skills he used often outside of the precinct. He found it was more exhilarating, more fulfilling to solve mysteries the new-fashioned way. The old-fashioned way would be using his abilities, which were by all accounts, ancient.

The more likely, reasonable theory postulated that it simply skipped a generation. Although his grandmother had not been surprised about his abilities, she was astonished about the fact that he could multi-task. She could pour her concentration in one direction and have a desired and satisfying result, but her little Ricky could accomplish great things, many things at once. She theorized that his father might have been gifted, as well. The caveat was that although he could manipulate our definition of physics, he couldn't manipulate life-altering events, at least not those directly life altering to him. He couldn't prevent his death. He couldn't accentuate his success. He couldn't make someone love him.

Abuse of the rules, which admittedly were inconsistent at best and unyielding at worst, was what had brought about the downfall of many of his like. The universe tended not to look kindly on profiteers and opportunists. For instance, the universe was perfectly fine helping to put a cow on the roof of his high school, but when it came to saving his own ass from a domineering and prejudicial principal, he was on his own.

He was still on his own, sitting on his own roof gazing at the cosmos, which was visually drowned out by civilization, but he knew it was there. He had a tenable connection and could feel its suffocating and oppressive weight upon his chest or more specifically, his heart.

"It won't do you any good."

The glass dropped and shattered. "Jesus, Roy, how about some warning?"

"I knocked. I called. I did not send up any fireworks, but maybe I should have, given that the sky is where you're searching."

"Funny. You should have become a comedian."

"I thought about it, but you know the rules. No personal gain."

"Only if you use it," he said as he spread his arms to the sky. "You're a funny guy all on your own."

Roy narrowed his eyes. "I'm not sure if that's a compliment or an insult."

"Writer: we're good at subtext, obscurity and mis-direction all on our own."

Montgomery shook his head. "You gonna share that bottle?" He looked longingly at the half-full bottle of Jameson's on the table.

"We'll have to take it inside, you broke my glass."

"I didn't break anything, except maybe your concentration."

Castle sighed and grabbed the bottle. "Come on," he groused as he headed for the steps.

Once inside his office, he motioned for the captain to have a seat while he went to his bar and produced two new glasses, poured and presented one to his old friend.

"What, no levitating whiskey for me?"

"No, I'm sorting my laundry. Takes a bit more attention."

"Smart ass," the captain mumbled as he took a healthy swig of the smooth liquid.

"Yeah," Rick agreed and tipped his own tumbler back, downing it in one swallow.

"Are we racing?"

"What do you mean?"

"Rick, I've known you for far too many years to not know that you prefer to sip good whiskey, let it roll slowly over your tongue. The only reason you ever knock them back is that you're hoping they will accomplish something for you." Montgomery stared at Castle, who didn't take the bait. The man could go for hours without blinking. No flinching. "So tell me, my friend, what is so wrong that you're looking to deaden it and why are you blaming…" he let his eyes wander toward the ceiling.

"I'm not blaming the universe for anything."

"Uh huh," Roy scoffed and sipped his drink.

"It's just…"

"It's just frustrating. Here you are at the top of your profession, luckiest son of a bitch…" Rick scowled: Roy knew as well as he did that luck did not exist. There was a pre-ordained order to the universe that admittedly could be changed, but not by luck. It was the manipulation of the natural and supernatural worlds and elements known to all and some others only known to a few. Montgomery continued, "Yes, you have been lucky in every way this backward planet defines, except love."

Rick's eyes widened. He'd have to work on his tells if he was going to continue to play poker with this man. "This isn't…"

"Isn't it?"

"She's with Josh, Roy," Castle said, falling into his desk chair. "You know those rules you were spouting off about a few moments ago."

"Since when do you worry about the rules?"

"There's no bending that rule, besides, I want it to be real. It's just…I saved the freaking city today." Roy raised an eyebrow. "Okay, the Aggregate and I, but she didn't know that. She didn't see the other outcome, the one where I watched the flesh melt off her body like wax melts in flame. I saw it and so did you." Rick could still see the desolation and destruction that would have happened if he wasn't granted the help he'd needed to avert the disaster. He still felt the relief when they discovered the bomb had been neutralized; he still felt her arms around him.

"Yeah, but that wasn't self-interest. You just said it yourself: you saved the city, not just yourself and not just her. Thanks again, by the way."

"You're welcome."

"My point is that you'll just have to do this the old-fashioned way."

"You mean rely on my good looks, unfailing charm and good deeds? Because so far, that hasn't worked out so well. What is it with Kate Beckett? Why can't I take a freaking hint?"

"You're an idiot, you know?"

"Thanks, I think I've already covered that pretty well myself…" He scowled. "Weren't you just thanking me for saving your ass?"

"Doesn't make you any less of an idiot. Look, she's distracted. You need to find a way to get her to focus solely on you. She'll see you for the great guy you purport to be and you can finally dip into that storehouse of karma you've got saved up."

"She still has a boyfriend. Is karma going to take care of that roadblock? Will the Aggregate?" He shook his head. "That's not been my experience."

"Don't worry about the boyfriend. My spies tell me that he's been kind of an ass lately. I think that relationship will be ending soon and take care of its own roadblock."

"A huh," Rick grunted disbelievingly.

"Have a little faith, huh? Aren't you the optimistic guy who believes in everything?"

"Not everything…not anymore."

Roy Montgomery downed the last of his drink and set the glass carefully on the table. "I'm going to do you a favor," he declared.

"What kind…"

"I really prefer you optimistic rather than suspicious. I have been asked to send some people to join a task force. I think I've just decided who those people will be."

"Roy," he warned, but also couldn't deny being intrigued. "What task force? Where?"


	2. Misdirection

_A/N - Thanks for the great response to this story. I haven't written anything with a supernatural twist before. I hope you will continued to be entertained._

 _I appreciate you taking the time to read, follow and add this to your favorites and a special thank you to my reviewers: You keep me on task and I'm grateful._

 _Enjoy!_

 _~GeekMom_

* * *

 **The Possibility of Magic**

 **Chapter 2**

 **Misdirection**

She lay in his arms at first, listening to the gentle thub-dub of his heartbeat. He was asleep. He'd picked her up at the precinct just after she and Castle had saved the city. Of course, she couldn't tell him that: it was classified. The feelings of relief, unbelief, accomplishment, joy, the fact that they had cheated death, yet again, the comradery they shared afterwards at the precinct through incredulous laughter and bottles of beer, Esposito's sobering agreement with Montgomery, _'Captain's right: you guys don't know how lucky you are.'_ She couldn't share any of it with him.

He'd cancelled his plans to travel to Haiti, for her. He'd given up helping those people because she asked him to stay: to give them a chance. She fought with him about it. Accused him of not being there for her; of always being too busy; of always being gone. She voiced the same tired words when she and Castle were quarantined, _'I wish that I had someone who would be there for me and I'd be there for him and we could just dive into it together.'_

Her relationship with him and his busy schedule and her busy and wildly unpredictable schedule was the way she liked it, until she didn't. She had always kept one foot out of the door, the problem was that so did he, but he came back, this time. He came back and now lay with his back to her.

She never liked being the big spoon. Completely opposite from Detective Beckett's commanding and domineering presence at work, she wanted to be cuddled and taken care of at home. She wanted to let the responsibilities and stress go. She wanted someone who would create a safe haven for her to crawl into the protective shelter of his arms and close the world out; the world with its plots and schemes, bombs and terrorists. She wanted laughter and lightness, she wanted…magic. She closed her eyes and Castle's face was behind her lids, smiling that tentative smile as if he wasn't sure if he'd be rewarded or reprimanded for some act of lunacy or brilliance. It was hard to tell the difference some days. Today, it had been both. She opened her eyes to the back of her boyfriend and shivered. Maybe it had been warmer in the freezer in protective arms.

Her phone buzzed on the nightstand. Kate reached for it and noted the time, just after seven. She scowled: she was supposed to be off for a few days, you know as a reward for saving the city and all. She pressed the icon and growled, "Beckett."

"Good morning, Detective. I'm glad you're awake."

"Who's it?" Josh mumbled from his pillow.

"Never mind," she sighed as she stood up and walked out of her bedroom. "Captain? I thought I was off…"

"Yeah: I know I said that, but something has come up and I need you and your team to come in as soon as possible."

"Sir?"

"I'll explain everything when you get here."

"Is this an emergency, sir?"

"If by emergency, do you mean a body drop or another dirty bomb? Then no, but this is of the utmost importance. I'll see you all at nine."

Kate scowled. "Okay, yes…"

"Oh, and Beckett? Make sure you bring Castle."

"I don't know if he's available sir. With the team off, he sometimes goes away."

"He's home. Yesterday, he said that he sent his mother and his daughter to his house in the Hamptons. He's home…and alone."

He must have told that to Montgomery before she got to the conference room for the celebratory beers. She sometimes forgot that they were friends and had been friends long before he began at the precinct. "But…"

"But nothing, Detective. Can I count on you?" Roy knew enough about the inner workings of his star detective to know that she prided herself on her availability. It was a part of her work ethic and Montgomery held no compunction about abusing her sense of duty from time to time.

"Yes, of course, sir. I'll see you at nine."

"So you're going?"

She spun from the window she'd wandered to during the conversation. She hadn't heard him get up. "I have to."

"Who else is going?"

"The team;" she scowled, "my team. Montgomery wants the team in for a special assignment."

"Yeah," he grunted. "The _team_ : I get it," he spat and then disappeared down the hallway.

"Josh?" She followed him. "I can't just say, 'no, I'm sorry, I don't feel like obeying a direct order today.'"

"Jeez, you're just a cop Kate; you're not in the army or shit." He turned and walked away from her.

"Just a…?" She stared at his back. "What in the hell does that mean?"

He stopped and faced her. "It means that I came back for you. That I let _my_ team down…I let those people down. What I do is important."

"And…?" Her mind was spinning.

"And it's not like you are saving people; you totally miss that boat. You just clean up the mess afterwards."

"You…" she sputtered and then stopped. She couldn't tell him about the threat to national security and the city. She couldn't tell him about how she and Castle faced down the devil in the form of a dirty bomb; she couldn't tell him he was an ass. Wait. "You have no idea what you're talking about. You have even less understanding of what it is that I do. Just yesterday, Castle and I…"

"God, if I have to hear any more about your god damned shadow, I'm…"

"You'll what? He's my partner, Josh." Her eyes narrowed as the crux of his issue was exposed to the light, like a slimy lizard crawling out from under a rock. "You don't look good in green."

He raised his voice instantly. "You think…you think I'm jealous of a has-been writer who's now a wanna-be cop? Jealous of what? I'm a surgeon, Kate," he bellowed pompously.

She inhaled and exhaled, twice. "Look," she said more calmly than she felt. "I have to go in to work. That's all it is. If this is…well, I don't know what the hell this is." He stared at her and she ran her hands through her hair. "If you can't respect my job and what I do along with _all_ of the members of my team, maybe we need to rethink some things."

Josh seethed. Didn't she understand the sacrifices he made for her? He shook his head. "I don't need to rethink anything. I'm going to Haiti." He turned without another word and re-entered her bedroom to dress.

* * *

"Castle," Rick answered without opening his eyes. The bottle of Jameson's he'd finished off with Roy the night before effectively sealed his eyelids to his skull.

"Get your ass out of bed."

Castle frowned. "Who the hell is this?"

"Your fairy godmother. Now whip up some of that magical hangover elixir and get ready for Beckett's call."

"It's not magical," he said blearily. Suddenly his bed shuttered and slammed against the wall jarring his eyes open. "What the hell?"

"You feel it?"

"What? Shit! Was that an earthquake?"

"Nope, that was the universe snapping something into place. The right place."

"Felt like a five or a six on the Richter Scale."

"Yeah well the universe is a big place; it's bound to echo. Just get up and get ready to go."

"Yeah, yeah. You know…" He heard Montgomery hang up, cutting off an eloquent and scathing reply.

After convincing himself that rising would be a good idea, he sought out the magical elixir: water and a couple of acetaminophen and after, he brushed his teeth. It always worked wonders.

* * *

He just stepped out of the shower when his phone rang. Her ring tone was an excerpt from Fall Out Boy's _Just One Yesterday._ His phone sang out, _'Anything you say can and will be held against you, so only say my name; it will be held against you. Anything you say can and will be held against you, so only say my name.'_ Her ring tone on his phone changed often, depending on his frame of mind and mood. He'd been hopeful recently, until yesterday, that is. He made a mental note to change it. Maybe he'd find a down and out country song about unrequited love. He wasn't familiar with country songs, but he was sure there would be one to fit the bill: one without a pickup truck or a dog. It'd be more challenging to find, but he owned neither.

"Castle," he answered quietly.

"Um, good morning. I hope I didn't…"

"I'm up. What do you have, Beckett?"

He made a cup of coffee for himself and one for Beckett while he shaved and got dressed. Usually, he stopped at Java the Hutt. He liked the name, their coffee and, in deference to Alexis, purchasing his coffee kept his abilities hidden from her view.

He picked up the cups on his way through the kitchen. His was easy, at least in the morning, he preferred a simpler, more pure cup: cream and two sugars; Beckett always wanted a vanilla latte. He peered into the cup to make sure his subconscious didn't get the better of his skills. He breathed a sigh of relief: a simple flower of foam adorned the top of her latte.

He began checking after he presented her with an x-rated depiction one morning after a particularly vivid dream he had that night. She'd asked him what the hell he was thinking and he said that his baseball interpretation got a little out of hand. She was skeptical, as per usual. In his defense, there were balls and a bat and something vaguely diamond shaped. He had double-checked ever since.

* * *

The elevator door opened and the first things he noticed were the lumps of humanity formally known as Esposito and Ryan sprawled over the tops of their desks. Apparently he wasn't the only one relieved the city hadn't been blown to Narnia. Although he wouldn't mind a visit, he just it rather not be along with the city. It was rumored that C.S. Lewis was a member of the Aggregate; at least that's what the legend suggested, therefore it was entirely possible that he wrote of a real place. Rick had checked wardrobes everywhere he went since learning of the rumor, just in case.

Castle stopped short and looked behind him: no one was in sight. He closed his eyes and then held up the tray of now, four coffees and walked into the bullpen. At that very moment, outside of Java the Hutt, two men searched for the coffees they had just purchased and set down on a bench while waiting for a bus. Each pulled a crisp twenty-dollar bill from their pockets. Castle knew that they didn't spend that much on their drinks, but he paid for their inconvenience as well as their coffees.

"Good morning, detectives," he announced, cheerily. He was greeted by a series of grunting and a couple of whines. He set the coffees on their desks and shook his head. "Always hydrate, boys."

"Thanks, Castle."

"Yeah, Bro, thanks for this," Javi held the coffee up, "and for the drinks last night at the Haunt."

"How'd you know we were going there?"

He blinked. "I, uh, I didn't." He did. "There's a standing order that anyone from the twelfth drinks free." He looked at them closely. "Maybe I should set a limit."

"Everyone from the task force was there, but you, Beckett, Montgomery and Fallon. You missed a hell of a celebration."

"I had my own, besides, the red-heads are out of town. I got some painting done."

"Castle, dude," Javi admonished. "Aren't you, like a bajillionaire or something like that?"

Esposito was not suffering a hangover: he was still drunk. Castle smiled: drunken Espo was entertaining. "Something like that. Why?"

"Well, if I had your money, I wouldn't do anything menial like that. I'd hire someone."

"Yeah, hire someone," Ryan echoed.

"I like to paint. It helps me keep my skills finely tuned. I also had laundry to do."

"Skills," Espo scoffed, "for a house maid."

"Housemaid," Ryan repeated, smiling crookedly in agreement.

Castle wasn't exactly certain of what happened next. He was sure that he never meant to shove Espo's coffee cup off his desk from across the room, splashing both detectives in Espo's overly sweet caffeinated beverage. Sometimes things like that happened. Little things that, coincidentally could have been accidents, nothing major like setting someone's house on fire like Charlie did in the movie Fire Starter or tossing cars around in the air as Carrie did courtesy of his good friend Stephen's book. His incidents may have been accidents, maybe not. Even he wasn't sure most of the time. All he knew was that he had to guard his thoughts more often than not.

"Espo, I hear that the coffee helps with hangovers on the inside better than the outside," Beckett said as she made her entrance. "Hey, Castle. Thanks for this." She picked up her own cup and downed a healthy swallow. He was mesmerized by the look of pure bliss on her face. It was a mystery: how such a simple thing like coffee could bring her so much pleasure. He stared at her, as he usually did. He stole a breath and opened his mouth in awe. She breathed in through her nose while the cup was tilted, as if the brewed beverage inside the paper cup was a fine wine. She closed her eyes as the first drops hit her tongue and as she lowered the cup, she smiled. It was small and almost unnoticeable, but he noticed.

Castle scowled. He also noticed the bags under her red, not black, rimmed eyes and her slightly puffy eyelids. Beckett had been crying that morning. He felt like an idiot or a slacker for not having caught it sooner, even though she'd only been in the room for two minutes.

"Hey," he answered and then leaned forward and quietly asked, "Are you okay?"

Beckett looked at him. Damn the man, she couldn't get anything by him. She smiled. "I'm fine." She smiled and regarded at him with a reassuring or defiant expression; he wasn't sure which. "Good…in fact better than I have been in a while."

He stared at his knees and then lifted his head. "Sorry you had to come in on a day off."

"Why? Is this your fault?"

"What? No, oh no, it's just…well; I know that Josh stayed here for you or came back or something. You said you had a chance."

"Yeah, well chances come and go." At his confused and concerned look, she added, "He went to Haiti, this morning."

"I…I'm sorry." He wasn't sure, as ever, if he was apologizing in sympathy or for action. The Aggregate had a sense of humor, as did the universe, after all. Sometimes all he had to do was think of something, sometimes whatever outcome he desired took all of his concentration. Sometimes it didn't matter and had no effect whatsoever.

"Thanks, but you didn't make him an asshole."

Castle stared dumbfounded at her and had just opened his mouth for clarification when Montgomery called all four of them into his office.

After shuffling in and finding various pieces of furniture upon which to sit or lean, Montgomery looked them all up and down. "You're a sorry looking bunch. Save the world and you think it's rest time; time to party. He winked at Castle, who frowned.

"Captain, we were supposed to have the next few days off," Ryan reminded him.

"I know, I know. I'm just busting your chops. I need my best team to join a task force upstate."

Castle still frowned. Beckett started to speak, but was cut off by a rankled Esposito. "We were just on a task force. Bomb, city, terrorists, you remember?"

"Which is why I need you on this one," his tone left little room for any additional outbursts from Espo.

"Sir? What type of task force?" Beckett asked.

"Unknown phenomena."

Castle's frown deepened and he looked at his friend and mentor. "I think I…um, I read about this?" He gazed at Montgomery and the look on his face plainly said, "What the hell?" While his mind spewed many questions, _'Is this the breach? The unknown exposure the Aggregate is trying to conceal? What the hell, Roy?'_

"All right, when do they need us there?" He vaguely heard Beckett ask questions, all business. He heard the other voices discussing the details, but didn't consciously catch any himself. "Castle," Beckett called from the doorway. "You coming?"

Everyone else had left Montgomery's office. He looked dumbly around as if he were just waking. "Uh yeah, I just need to ask…" he looked at Roy's face. Caution was what he read. "We're supposed to get together for poker tomorrow night. Just going to make alternate plans."

She raised an eyebrow, but didn't comment further. "Right: don't be too long."

"No, I won't." Beckett stepped out of the room. He spun on Roy. "What the hell? Is this the breach?"

"I already heard your questions. You shouted them a few moments ago."

"What…out loud?"

Roy scowled. "Of course not, dumbass."

"So?"

"Yes; it's the breach. The Aggregate needs it investigated discretely."

"So you're sending Esposito and Ryan?"

"They want you there. They're part of your team…so is Beckett." He smiled wickedly.

Incredulous, Castle asked, "Is this your grand plan to get Beckett less distracted? By sending her to a place where she won't believe what she sees?"

"Josh is gone and he's not coming back," Roy said triumphantly.

"But…"

He sat at his desk and steepled his fingers in front of him, ignoring the panic oozing from his friend on the other side of his desk and said calmly, "Look, you wanted to get her away."

"No, no, _you_ wanted to get her away…I mean you wanted for _me_ to get her away."

"Are you actually an author or did you figure a way around that rule."

Castle pursed his lips. "How the hell is this going to work?"

"You're smart and resourceful and magic," he answered cheerfully, enjoying Castle's distress.

"It's not magic."

"Yeah, yeah, I know psycho-physics." Montgomery smiled in that 'I know better than you,' completely irritating way he had. "Your team is waiting." He nodded toward the bullpen. He stood. "Do us proud," he said clicking his heels together and saluting in a stylized flourish.

"Son of a bitch," Castle muttered on his way past his desk.

"I heard that," Roy called after his friend.

Castle, who had his head down, replied, "You were supposed to." He looked behind him at the smiling countenance of one of his best friends, a man who knew most of his secrets and how hard he tried to live a normal life. One of the only men who knew what a difficult situation Castle was facing.

"Ready?" Beckett asked as he walked sullenly back into the bullpen.

Sighing, Castle answered, "as ready as I'll ever be."

"Oh come on Castle, this is straight up your ally. Maybe we'll find aliens or ancient cults or if all else fails, zombies."

He mustered a grin for her. She had no idea how close she truly was.


	3. Psycho (Kinesis)

_A/N - Trick or Treat!_

 _I'm so excited and pleased by your response to this tale. I'll be posting a new chapter every couple of days until Halloween. I beg the indulgence of my Courtship of Katherine Beckett readers while I finish this story, as it's on a deadline, before I post another chapter there._

 _Thanks for the favorites and follows and for the reviewers. I'm glad you're excited about the possibilities as I am._

 _Enjoy!_

 _~GeekMom_

 _P.S._

 _I like to send a shout out of thanks and admiration to my new Fan Fic buds, two very talented authors: Aalon and Perspex13. Check out their stories, but only if you want to read impressive and imaginative writing._

* * *

 **The Possibility of Magic**

 **Chapter 3**

 **Psycho (Kinesis)**

 _Psycho - mentally unstable; intensely upset, anxious, or angry; crazy._

 _Kinesis - an undirected movement of a cell, organism, or part in response to an external stimulus._

 _Psychokinesis - the supposed ability to move objects by mental effort alone._

* * *

"Saranac Lake is supposed to be magical," Ryan read ardently from the back seat of Castle's Mercedes. He'd picked up Castle's phone and searched for information about the area.

Castle cocked a disbelieving eyebrow in the rearview at the younger man and pursed his lips. "Really," he drawled sardonically and then toned down his disbelief a bit. His mother would have called it indicating. "How is it magical? Because I don't remember magic: I remember long, hot summers and tiny black flies that bit you before you even knew they were there."

Montgomery had gleefully informed the team that Castle had spent many summers in the general area they were to investigate, according to his webpage, and that he was familiar with the roads and local area eccentricities. The team agreed that because of his insider knowledge, he should drive. Espo and Ryan, still nursing their hangovers wholeheartedly endorsed the plan. Beckett, who, given the opportunity would mainline control as well as caffeine, was less than thrilled.

Castle glared at Roy when he made that announcement. Yes, he'd been in the area several summers as a youth, so had Roy: it's where they met. Yes, he was familiar with the local eccentricities, but the said eccentricities included a hidden camp for those deemed gifted. It was where he learned to control his gifts: a boot camp of sorts.

It was almost a six-hour drive from Manhattan. By the time they were halfway there, both detectives in the back seat were draped over each other, blissfully unaware and happily snoozing-off their over-indulgences of the previous night. Castle's partner sat in judgement in the passenger seat and complained about his choice of radio station, his speed: excessive or _'Jeez, Castle! We could walk faster'_ , his purported inability to turn off his blinker after changing lanes, the temperature of the cabin: even though his car had zoned climate controls, his passenger side mirror which was aimed in such a ridiculous angle that there was no way he could see properly and a thousand other threads she chose to pick and pull at until he unraveled.

It started when the radio went haywire, switching stations randomly. Every time she reached for the controls it would move again. It would have been funny, had it not been a clear indicator that he was losing control. He decided to stop when he passed a series of roadside Burma-Shave-esque advertisements which folded behind his car like a cartoon flip book.

Breathing deeply, he pulled into a rest area, disregarding his partner's demanding enquiries about the reason for the stop, slammed the car into park and jumped out without a word to her or the undead in the backseat. He jogged to the rest room, ignoring Beckett's alarmed cries she sent tumbling after him only to land on the concrete sidewalk under the 'I heart New York' sign and only glancing back as he entered the facility. The uneasiness in her stance and face were unmistakable and regrettable, but he needed relief, a respite.

Castle strode into the men's room and checked to make sure it was empty. It wasn't. He waited, although not graciously or patiently while an older man, he was guessing he was of Pacific Island descent, finished at the urinal. It occurred to him, too late, that he probably spooked the man who was no taller than five foot three by his six, two frame admittedly creepily just leaning against the wall, brooding. Castle apologized, guiltily as the frail, wizened man shuffled toward the exit, his wispy white hair floating ethereally around his skull like the downy feathers of baby geese. The man muttered something under his breath in a language Castle didn't understand, but he had no trouble understanding the meaning. He shut his eyes and from his position across the room, flicked the lock and began pacing in front of the stalls like a caged animal. He slammed each of the stall doors, twice: back and forth and then turned toward the sink. He leaned forward, putting his weight and excess energy into his hands, gripping the cool porcelain and concentrating, he flipped on the tap. He looked at his reflection, distorted in the polished metal, sorry excuse for a mirror, and sighed. She was making him crazy. Not only on this trip either; she had been slowly and methodically making him certifiably insane for the past three years, but she had been in rare form that day.

Leaning down he splashed water on his face, concentrated on his breathing and control, and in calming down he remembered a piece of information vital to his situation. He smacked himself on the forehead harder than he intended.

"Ow," he whispered as he soothed the red mark, although the echo in the deserted bathroom made it much louder and complimented the pounding in his ears. "Roy is right: you're an idiot," he said to his reflection. The back of his brain noted how incredibly weird it was that his reflection wasn't quite as tall as he was and was about fifteen pounds heavier.

He'd just remembered about the source. They were within an hour of Saranac. He recalled, once he relaxed, that it had always been interesting for him the closer he got to the Lake. He was like a human lightning rod or a Geiger counter and Saranac Lake was the eye of the storm or the mother lode of Neptunium, Plutonium and Uranium in one location. His energy spiked and ebbed. As a teen, he usually ended up with a headache and broken camping gear. The increased energy coupled with Beckett's irritability sent him over the edge and his immediate local universe tail spinning out of control.

Knowledge was indeed, power. As soon as he identified and recognized the reason behind his power surge, he was able to live with it, to control and harness it. Beckett getting under his skin was another issue.

"Castle!" Ryan's voice oozed under the door, which at the same time was being pummeled by Esposito.

Before he considered it, he carelessly unlocked the door from the sink and then his normal precaution and discretion caught up with him. "Damn it," he muttered and stuck his head down again.

"Castle, what…" Espo noticed the distance from the door to the sink ad frowned suspiciously. "How did you get over there so fast after unlocking the door?"

"I didn't unlock the door," he lied.

"Dude, it was locked."

Ryan offered, "Yeah man, we both tried it and then pounded…"

"For, like, twenty minutes." Espo was a master of exaggeration. It was also an interrogation technique. Get the perp to admit to something because he wants to correct you. "Didn't you hear us?"

"Nope," he said as innocently as he could. "But I was soaking my head. It must have been the water." He smiled. "It must have drowned you out." He chuckled at his own pun.

Esposito just shook his head, but Ryan muttered his skepticism.

Castle reached for the paper towel and caught site of the boys in the mirror. "Did you come in here for the reason most men do or did you just miss my ass so much you had to come stare at it?"

Ryan frowned, then nodded and walked back to the urinals. Espo sidled next to Castle and leaned on the sink, ignoring the author's sarcasm. "Beckett woke us up. Said you were sick or something."

"Scared the shit out of her," Ryan called.

Castle scoffed. "Yeah, she's only concerned because she can't be in here to correct or criticize my stance." He leaned back and tilted his head toward the urinals. "Like Ryan's."

Espo raised his eyebrows in agreement. Turning back to Castle, he asked, "Seriously, are you okay?"

"Yeah: just feeling a little car sick: had to move. I'm better now."

* * *

The three men exited the restroom together as if they were exiting a bar: laughing and generally happy. Running into a very perturbed Kate Beckett would have sobered them if they had actually been drinking.

"Castle? What the hell?"

Castle scowled and Ryan jumped in. "Kate, he wasn't feeling well."

"Yeah Beckett, ease up."

"And you two: I sent you in to check on him. Where the hell did you disappear to?"

Rick waved his hand in front of his face, too drained to engage. "I'm getting in the car and going to Saranac," he announced, effectively ending the era which was known as the men's room inquisition. His three partners followed, the boys faster than Beckett, but she climbed in and glared at the boys before she harrumphed and settled into the front seat.

Castle was already backing out of the space before she glanced at him. "Are you okay?" she asked quietly.

He grunted.

"I can drive if…" her offer was cut off by his unimpressed glower. They drove in silence for several minutes until a board-breaking snore rattled the tinted glass. Kate looked over her shoulder and suppressed a grin because Espo face was pressed up against the back door window and Ryan was flopped forward.

Castle looked in the mirror. "What were they drinking last night?"

"I don't know. I went home."

"I know," he said quietly, "with Josh."

"Is that your problem?"

"I don't have a problem, Beckett, especially not with doctor motorcycle boy." He inhaled. "Look, I don't want to fight. I'm sorry he left."

"He didn't leave."

"But you said he went to Haiti."

"Yeah, but I kicked him out…"

"I'm sor…"

"Right after I broke up with him."

A light bulb in his mind brilliantly lit and exposed his stupidity. Her cantankerousness made sense all of a sudden. He tilted his head and glanced at her. She was holding a staring contest with the yellow line on the side of the road. "I'm sorry. I know that's rough."

She swallowed and shook her head. "It's okay. I learned some things about him that I just couldn't stomach."

Castle's mind started supplying the things: _'superior, conceited, swarthy, too tall; irritatingly handsome: seriously, he must have had some work done, tall…wait, oh_ , _he wears too much leather…'_

"He didn't respect me or my job," she confessed, her voice low, but strong enough to break through the cacophony that was his constant inner dialogue.

A record needle scratched across the vinyl on the long playing album of the litany of his inner thoughts. That would have never occurred to him. "What?"

She hesitated and worriedly rubbed her hands together, very un-Beckett-like. "He said that I was just a cop."

"Just a…Does he have any idea what you do? I mean, I know he's a doctor and he goes on those missions and he's a heart surgeon…"

"Sounds like a pretty great guy," she said.

"But he's totally blind Kate, or he's got his head stuck up his ass. I wonder what kind of surgery that would be. A total cranial resection? Maybe, an ass-ectomy?" He grinned at the mental picture his mind supplied and then smiled wider at the same mental picture, clad in leather and on a motorcycle. "You're extraordinary. Just a cop," he scoffed and shook his head. "Seriously, what an ass."

Kate smiled and dipped her head, causing her hair to curtain her face. Castle swore she did that on purpose.

"What?"

"I may have told him that, too, just before I threw him and his three, god he had three leather jackets at my place, out. Who needs that much leather? Seriously!"

A slow smile spread across Castle's face. A picture of Kate Beckett in leather invaded his brain. _'That was no laughing matter,'_ he thought. _'Holy shit!'_ They reached for their coffees at the same time, their fingers colliding. Kate let her fingers brush over his hand, lingering for longer than could be explained as an accident.

"Kate?"

"I'm sorry, Castle."

He took the time to look at her. She was watching him from under her lashes. "I don't…" he began.

"I've been a real bitch," he winced at her choice of words, "earlier. I'm not making excuses, just the break-up, yesterday and now this…" she gestured out the front windshield. "Going up here with minimal prep or information, not to mention that we're already stressed…" she glanced over her shoulder, "or hungover. I don't like going in blind especially when not one of us is at one hundred percent. Anyway, I'm sorry. You're a good driver and there's nothing wrong with your car."

Castle couldn't suppress his grin. "Apology accepted, Beckett. We can all go a little psycho every now and then." He was grateful that when Beckett went a little psycho, she didn't have the kinesis that he did. He fully believed that if she were gifted, she would be able to toss cars into the air.

She hadn't removed her fingertips from the back of his hand during her whole discourse, just kept rubbing his hand, lightly, sending tingles and sharp electric shocks directly to his brain. His respiration picked up, but not because he was trying to keep under control. She sat up, tightening her seatbelt, breaking contact with his hand. He immediately felt bereft and then he didn't when she reached for and grabbed his hand again, but that time she intertwined her fingers with his. Deliberately: not an accident.

The whole car shook as if he'd run over something in the road. Beckett looked at him alarmed. Rick smiled. There were some days he loved the universe.


	4. Elementally, My Dear Watson

_A/N - As promised._

 _ _I'd like to send a big shout out of appreciation to my group message and/or group therapy Twitter pals who never fail to read and always make me feel like I can do anything._ concreteangel16 and FuelDH206, who write (read their stories) and operaluvr and Deputy Hot Stuff who read. You guys are the best! _

_Enjoy!_

 _~GeekMom_

 _P.S. I also thank everyone for the kindness and enthusiasm in your reviews. I always answer my reviews and I will, but because of the deadline, I'll finish the story and then devote time to truly show my appreciation. If you have a moment, please leave a comment or question. I absolutely love answering and discussing my thought processes while writing and getting to know my readers._

* * *

 **The Possibility of Magic**

 **Chapter 4**

 **Elementally, My Dear Watson**

They hardly let go of each other's hands for the rest of the ride to Saranac Lake and when he needed both hands for driving or she for her coffee, they came back together as if their palms were magnetic. The boys were still sleeping it off in the back of the car and he and Beckett chatted and played silly car games (due to his meticulous perseverance.) Still, it was better than arguing about the radio station, to pass the time. She hadn't played License Plate Bingo or I Spy since she was a bored kid in the back seat of her Dad's Buick when her family spent summer vacations at their cabin.

"What are you thinking about?" he asked as he squeezed her fingers. Her focus had been outside for several minutes. He grinned dopily when he realized what he'd just done. He liked the sensation of being able to squeeze her fingers whenever he wanted. It was a start.

She dragged her gaze back inside the car. "Hm?" She tilted her head, puzzled by the expression on his face. "Oh…nothing really: I haven't been to the Adirondacks in a very long time, that's all. They're still beautiful."

Castle frowned. "For February, I guess. I prefer the multiple greens of summertime or the autumn hues of reds, oranges, rusts and yellows when the mountainsides look like they've been set ablaze."

"Poetical," she teased.

"Writer," he replied, "and it's just poetic, unless you're under the direction of Joss Whedon or talking about me. I can be poetical, but the statement was poetic."

She rolled her eyes and directed her attention to the landscape again.

He was thoughtful for a moment. "We could ski," he suggested through raised eyebrows. "Mt Pisgah has a great resort."

Kate scowled as she considered him. "We're on the job, remember?"

"Yeah, but maybe we'll have to chase down the bad guys on skis, like in a Bond movie…or snowboards: I can do tricks," he boasted. Unconvinced, she scoffed and supported her jaw on her fist, her elbow propped on the bottom of the window while she continued to observe the bare trees like skeletal hands and fingers, pushing through the yellowed grass and stubborn patches of snow on the hillsides seeming to rush past in a backwards race. "Beckett," he continued undaunted, his voice dripped like rich, deep hot chocolate. "Have you ever seen a ruggedly handsome author do a tail grab?"

She slowly turned her head toward him and waited until her silence made him look her way. She gazed in his eyes and whispered, "Not yet," she purred, "but…" she breathily sighed, "I'm looking forward to it."

His jaw unhinged and he stared at her. If he had been a cartoon wolf, his eyeballs would have bugged out of his head making the aoogha of a Model T or A diaphragm car horn of the twenties and thirties and his tongue would have flopped completely out of his mouth only to retract like window blinds. Classic.

"Castle, the road," she yelled as he drifted onto the rumble strip carved into the shoulder.

He jerked the wheel and shook his head. "Not fair, Beckett…so not fair."

* * *

He pulled into the drive of their hotel a few minutes and several teasing looks and interactions later. Beckett got out and pulled her coat closed. The mountain air was colder than Manhattan's and definitely colder than the Mercedes' heated seats. She shivered.

Castle stayed in the car. He held onto the steering wheel, white-knuckled, as if it were the only life preserver in the vast ocean of new signals and signs to be interpreted. He vaguely noticed his partner shiver as she acclimated to the loss of heat. The apology followed by the hand-holding, followed by the easy and comfortable conversation were all conspiring to make his head spin. It was tough enough keeping focused in the swamp of Aggregate energy that permeated the very air. He didn't dare acknowledge the thought jumping up and down outside the doorway to his soul, demanding attention loudly, that she was finally ready to pursue a deeper partnership with him. The thought badgered and interrupted other thoughts rudely, until it began knocking.

Beckett stood outside the car for more than a couple of minutes waiting for her partner to release the trunk. She rubbed her ungloved hands together and called his name. She tried to see him through the tinted back window, bending down and squinting, all she could discern was his rigid posture and his hands tightly gripping the steering wheel. If she didn't know any better, she'd hazard a guess that he was in the midst of a panic attack. Moving quickly, concern veiling her features like a ski mask, she walked to the passenger door and flipped the handle only to find that he'd locked the door. She knocked loudly on the window and called his name. The car's excellent soundproofing all but muted her cries.

Beckett ran around the car to his door and resumed her knocking. Castle blinked and looked around. He looked up into her concerned face and assessed his own condition. His palms were sweaty where he'd gripped the wheel, his eyes and mind unfocused, his heart rate and respirations were both up as was his blood pressure.

He smiled and unlocked the doors. Beckett tore open the door and squatted next to him. Castle unhooked his seatbelt.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah," he tried for a reassuring smile. "I guess I'm just tired from the drive." He silently added, _'and the source._ '

He thought about the source, history and current state of the Aggregate. He, Montgomery and countless other gifted kids learned about it during their first summer at the Lake. He'd forgotten how the intense awareness of the communal Aggregate could overpower, both mentally and physically. He always felt smothered at first: the perfect elements, which were abundant on this mountain and alignment of the rocks, coalesced to make the area a perfect tuning fork. The closer the membership was to each other, the greater their influence. If they ever worked together toward a commonality or even a goal, they'd be able to accomplish great things or maybe, terrible things. Their separation was a fail-safe of sorts. Only yesterday, they'd come together for good when Rick disarmed the bomb. There had been many times that his or that of others' requests had simply been ignored, still others when the request had been detrimental or so off-the-rails that Rick had simply refused to participate. He shuddered to think about the destruction yesterday if they just couldn't have been bothered.

The Aggregate was an ancient order. No one really knew the origin: they only had the speculation, rumors and ambiguity that defined the community. Notions were across the board including that they were alien to Earth, but still human; actual aliens coupled with humans over eon, creating a hybrid; mythology and mixed genetics were the more popular theories. A superman-esque story had them barely escaping from a destroyed home world. Castle tended to favor the super-human theory when he was younger. As he grew and understood the universe more, he favored genetics, both the mutation account and the evolutionary concept, although secretly he still fantasized about super-humans and held out hope that one day he'd be able to fly. He already had the cape.

There was no central governing body, which might have been good or bad, depending on the situation. The only real control came from the universe. There was a collective consciousness of sorts and in times of need members could communicate, but not in a clear concise manner; it was mainly a feeling or an errant thought that popped into your own consciousness stream. When you received a message, it usually felt foreign, but merely as if you had a speck of grit in your shoe. If you weren't paying attention, you might miss it. Keeping an ear to the ground so to speak, was why most of those gifted seemed distracted or easily sidetracked, or like some, rumor had it, behaved like a nine-year-old on a sugar rush. Sending a mental epistle was a difficult endeavor that required absolute concentration. Mixed messages and misinterpretations happened all the time. Few Aggregate were gifted with telepathy, but it was easier to send a mass message, no matter how difficult or jumbled, than to find another telepathic person. Rick chose to use his cell phone. He had an app for that.

They all shared the ability to manipulate physics and matter in time and space, but most gifted with the skills could handle one or two tasks at once. There was also a natural order depending on your power, which could be detected not unlike a sensitive sense of smell can detect a particular type of cologne or nuances in wine, only not by using the sense of smell; it was an underlying perceptiveness. Castle liked to say it was his Spidey sense. The more strength a member possessed the stronger his or her, as he referred to it, Bat signal. It was one of the reasons most of those with skills used them for the menial or mundane. Uncle Ben was right when he said that with great power comes great responsibility.

Every once in a while, with humans being humans, someone would get out of hand and tamper with or alter world events, politics or success or any number of things that had been deemed untouchable. If you've ever scratched your head and wondered how some event could have happened in a sane world, it's a pretty good bet that a rogue member had a hand in the mess. There had been world events that had been catastrophic: Mount Vesuvius' untimely eruption was a direct result of an attempt at manipulating the Earth's core. The universe's punishment was swift, inflexible and usually, final. If only everyone gifted used his or her power for good, the world might be a better place, but even seemingly good deeds could have calamitous results in a far reaching, ripple effect way.

Another incentive to stay below the radar was the primitive and instinctive response to the unknown by their fellow humans. Which was and still is that when faced with an unknown quantity or a significant difference, humans react with fear and self-protection from the perceived threat, because until we learn about something and accept and define it as benign, it's a threat to our way of life. How many spiders have been squashed out of existence because of a perceived threat when in reality there are very few that can actually harm us? Not that the Aggregate were spiders, more like bees or ants to stay with the insect analogy, but there had in fact been several periods in history that they were almost squashed out of existence: Salem, Druids, and the disappearances of the Maya, Atlantis and Roanoke, The Spanish Inquisition, McCarthy Trials and many other examples throughout history. Secrecy was an unspoken but communally established fundamental rule. You just didn't break the trust.

Like many other human endeavors, the Aggregate was split into factions. Those that wanted to go about their lives, which were the majority, those who were zealously seeking unity and cooperation and those who wanted to harness the collective's powers for personal gain and domination. The universe and karmic justice generally kept the peace and the zealots in check. Generally.

Something had happened to upset the balance, which was why Castle had been asked (forced) to go to Saranac Lake. The Aggregate referred to that place as the source. Saranac is an Iroquois word meaning cluster of stars and indeed, to the gifted, the area seemed to glow and emanate a concentration of power, but whether that was because the Aggregate was centered there or because the Aggregate was focused there because of the glow and magnified power was a chicken and egg ages-old question.

It seemed like pure coincidence that the local and state authorities had convened the task force to solve a multi-jurisdictional crime wave and had followed the breadcrumbs to Saranac Lake. Montgomery and Castle both knew better: that the two were interconnected and woven tightly together. Castle's task was to break through the barriers and bureaucracy inherent in humanity's approach to any problem, find the cause of the disturbances and seal the breach as quickly as possible. The breach was costing the Aggregate psychic power, but had also robbed the victims' karmic banks. Whoever was behind the events had somehow skirted universal authority as well as the local law enforcement and that was troubling. Getting crap past the universe's radar was damn near impossible.

The undertaking was daunting, but Castle, in his unique position, would be able to tackle both sides at once. Not only was he associated with the NYPD, but also had an unusual allocation of Aggregative gifts. It's how he could accomplish many tasks concurrently. His grandmother had been the first to sense it and then it was identified and studied by the counselors who cultivated him and the other gifted kids at Camp Saranac.

He had been approached many times to lead, which he flatly refused every time. He believed that any kind of formal organizing of the Aggregate would lead to the world becoming decamped to two classes: gifted and non-gifted. That and he'd have to give up his lifestyle and move to Saranac and become a monk of sorts, dedicated to the Aggregate. He wanted no part of such a world order and certainly did not want to be the poster child for the restructuring of humanity, let alone the way of life he'd worked hard for his entire adulthood. There was also an underground movement of a small percentage of gifted who believed that the Aggregate had become too watered down and advocated purity. That philosophy terrified him as well as most of the gifted he knew.

"Castle?" He looked at her and saw a combination of humor and concern.

"Yeah," he answered languorously.

"Seriously, are you alright?"

"Yeah, just distracted, I guess." At some point he had gotten out of the car and was standing near the trunk, which was opened. He must have been on autopilot. The boys still snoozed in the back seat. "What do you want to do with Sleeping Beauty and Rip Van Winkle?"

"Which is which?"

"They're interchangeable." He finished unloading their luggage and placed it onto the cart.

"Wake their asses up."

"I think you should."

"Why?"

"Because they wouldn't dare make you the target of any fiendish payback."

Her eyes twinkled. "Together?"

"Deal," he agreed.

They each went to a door and opened them. Leaning down, together they counted to three silently then screamed their respective partner's name.

"Esposito," Kate shouted along with Castle's, "Ryan!"

The two men would have shot through the sunroof if Castle had it open. Luckily, they were still belted, and torpidly, they stared at their partners

Beckett winked at a smiling Castle and continued, "Get your asses awake, it's time to get to work."


	5. Mojo

_A/N - Thanks for all the follows, favorites and reviews. The last chapter may have felt a little off to some readers and it was different, but hopefully I've gotten the story's mojo back._

 _Enjoy!_

 _~GeekMom_

* * *

 **The Possibility of Magic**

 **Chapter 5**

 **Mojo**

Beckett watched her partner, but she did so surreptitiously, not overtly as his scrutiny so often was. Observing, he called it. She always corrected him: it was staring: creepily staring. Early in their association, she'd catch him and openly chastise him for his stalkers' behavior. He'd eventually toned it down and was better at true observing, leaving the creepy staring to only occasional breaches of partner etiquette.

She realized that she missed the constancy of knowing he was there, watching, cataloging, and catching every nuance of movement: a flick of her wrist or the way she ran her hand through her hair. He observed and then assigned or defined everything she did and the reasons, with surprising accuracy, why she did them. She reminded herself that she should be careful for what she wished for; at that moment, he wasn't even aware she was nearby.

He had become distracted on the final leg of their journey. The bolder she had become; the more he seemed to withdraw. To say she was confused would not have begun to define her feelings. Confused: definitely, the man had been nothing if not crystal clear in his objectives concerning her. Scared: yes, Kate Beckett, badass detective that no one would dare try to make flinch, was afraid of the great big bubble of emotion surrounding one Richard Edgar Castle. Giddy: Kate hadn't felt over-the-top excited about the possibilities of a new relationship since the eighth grade when Michael Borowkotski asked to sit with her at their Social Studies course's mock trial. Neither had been picked to portray a lawyer, judge, jury or even the complainant or respondent, so they held hands in the gallery all morning. Michael had been teasing her all semester, but had confessed his true feelings over a chicken nugget lunch the day before the trial. After they shared lunch, he decided to sit with Jennifer Rouillard, a foreign exchange student, in the gallery. She was a blonde, perky over-developed thirteen year old, even if she was a French thirteen year old, and had absolutely no interest in the justice system. It made no sense to Katie then just as Castle's behavior made no sense to Kate now.

The man had practically been falling over himself for three years to get closer to her and the moment she encouraged him, he pulled away. She had to admit he had been receptive to her tentative handholding at first, but he had been absent and preoccupied since they arrived at the hotel. She scowled and tried to set her personal feelings and ponderings aside. It was time to work.

* * *

Castle hadn't heard, which was the wrong word, but it was all he could come up with given the amount of chatter around him, so he hadn't _'heard'_ the Aggregate's messages so vocal and adamant or as clearly ever before. He barely noticed walking into the hotel or checking them in. It was as if he were listening to a police scanner of a high-speed chase or a play-by-play of an exciting sports event while his mother droned on about who did what to whom backstage at her latest job. He heard her voice and responded in the appropriate places, but had participated entirely by rote. The problem was that he was interested in both situations: the one in the natural world and the one in the supernatural world. His brain had also been working on the hows and whys, whos and whats: how was he even receiving the messages, how could there be so much panic, why had Beckett held his hand, what did this mean for them, would they have a chance at a real relationship, who the hell was behind the chaos, what was he supposed to do about it and why or how had he been elected when he'd made it abundantly clear that he had no interest in leadership. He'd never shown any inkling or desire in…he stopped moving as Roy's smiling face came into his mind.

"Son of a bitch," he muttered, standing next to Beckett in the elevator who appeared concerned and guarded simultaneously. He sighed.

"Castle? You okay?" Ryan asked from behind him.

He looked at his partners. Beckett stared at the digital numbers at the top of the elevator doors, carefully avoiding his gaze. She glowered at the display a little too unwaveringly to actually be staring at it. He turned to Ryan and tried to compose his face. Panic and anger would just bring on more questions. "I…um, yeah, I just thought I left the stove on…but I didn't."

From his peripheral angle, he saw Beckett's eyebrows shoot toward her hairline and grinned. It was nice to know she was still listening.

Because of their looks of utter bewilderment he apologized, "Nothing, never mind, just a joke. How are you two feeling?"

Ryan stood straighter, pushing his shoulders back in an effort to look the part of a cop ready to take on the world. Too bad the illusion was ruined because of his green tint. Esposito leaned against the back of the car, his eyes closed. No illusion there.

"Like they're idiots," Beckett answered. She turned fully around and glared at them. Castle was glad he'd had very few physical symptoms of his own night. He didn't think he could take the Aggregate and an aggravated Beckett at once. Grinning stupidly at his own thoughts, he heard Beckett continue to chide her team. "How about you lightweights take some aspirin and get to work now, okay?"

They mumbled, "Yeah," in unison. They frowned at each other, looked at the floor and then said, "Sorry, Beckett," also in unison. They brought their heads up in unison and glowered at each other accusingly.

Beckett turned around quickly to hide her amusement, but Castle caught it and having no decorum in front of subordinates to preserve, he laughed out loud. She tried to glare at him, but fell short. She knew he could read her, so she gave up.

* * *

Castle and Beckett left the boys at their room and wandered down the hall to find theirs. They were across the hall from each other. He had grabbed her suitcase as they exited the elevator and waited for her to open her door.

She turned when she had swung it open. "Castle, can we talk about…" She stopped. He had that faraway look on his face again.

"About?"

His response surprised her. She wasn't expecting him to come back so soon from wherever he had been disappearing to all day. "Look, if you're not ready…"

"No," he shouted hastily and loudly. The last thing he wanted was to wait. He took stock of the hallway. "Can we," he said quietly and nodded toward her room.

"Oh, yeah. Sorry." He heaved her bag onto the end of her bed and looked around. He hadn't been to Saranac Lodge in years. They'd made improvements and renovations.

"Don't…" he turned toward her. No. Don't for a second, think that I'm not…that I don't…I want…" He took her hands in his. "That I don't want this," he held her hands up and squeezed. "I'm a little distracted with the case. That's all."

"Oh," she breathed, letting her anxiety pool between them. The relief easily read in her features, until she asked, "Distracted?" She searched his face. "We don't know…" She stopped and started again. "We know hardly anything about…"

He'd made a mistake. His preoccupation with the din that was quickly becoming white noise had made him careless. He did the only thing he could think of: he pulled her close and kissed her.

"Castle?" She asked when he released her.

He stood with his forehead plastered to hers, his eyes closed. His hands gripped her upper arms lightly. Her hands found his hips. It was if they had stood like that all the time right after he kissed her. It was their first kiss. When he spoke again it was hushed, reverent. "I really, really want this, Kate. Have you ever heard of mojo?"

"You mean like in Austin Powers, his sexual proficiency?"

"First, it's so sexy that you just used sexual and proficiency in the same sentence."

She smiled. There was something so intimate, so connected about speaking in low tones and still pressed together.

"Second, no. I mean like a natural ability or charm."

"You mean as in magic?"

"Well, yeah I guess that's one application. I feel like…with this," he motioned with his hand between them. "I feel like my mojo is back."

"Did you ever lose it?" He felt her raise her eyebrow.

"Maybe…a little," he confessed. He brushed his lips across hers again as a promise and stepped back from her. "I'm going across the hall to get ready for our meeting. Fifteen minutes, right?"

Her head was spinning. His kiss was just as it had been before. Electric. Only this was real, it wasn't for a case. It wasn't to distract anyone. She nodded dumbly as he closed her door.

* * *

"Captain Montgomery."

"You son of a bitch," Castle exploded. "What in the hell did you do? What did you promise?"

"Hi, Rick. How was the drive?"

"Roy," he stated. "The drive was noisy as hell."

"I would have thought that Esposito and Ryan would have been quiet and sleeping off their obvious hangovers. Beckett looked pissed when she left here as well."

"Yeah and I've been so fucking distracted with everything that's been hitting me that I think she is still…" He decided to keep the developments to himself. "Look, I need to know what you promised them."

"It's temporary."

"What is, exactly?"

"You're the dude. The grand poohbah, the exalted…damn we need to get a cool name for the guy in charge."

"I'm not him. I don't want to be him. I don't care how cool the name is. You know how I feel about this."

"Yeah, well you are him until you can figure this out."

"God…" Rick sunk down on his bed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Nope, but the universe was more than happy to seal the deal."

"You mean the deal with the devil?"

"Nope, again. The universe was so impressed with your organizing of the Aggregate to stop the bomb that they jumped at the chance to get this situation taken care of."

"So you pimped me out to them?"

Roy was quiet. "I guess you could describe it that way. It was two birds."

"I doubt if you've seen mine yet."

"I can imagine it."

"Good," he said with a satisfied smirk on his face, which morphed quickly to bewilderment. "Wait...two…what do you mean two? What did you get out of this?"

"A little karmic replenishment," he admitted. Castle was silent. "You don't need it, besides, there's no one better suited to the job."

"So…" Castle began quietly. Montgomery could hear the wheels turning. "You used me? _And_ the team? Was there even a task force before you decided to send us here?" He felt nauseous. "Roy, you're not responsible for the missing…"

"Castle! How could you even think that?"

"Sorry: I'm sorry. You're just a jerk, you know?"

"Good luck, my friend," Roy said.

"No such," the line clicked dead, "thing," he finished. One day and one day soon, he'd hang up on him.

* * *

The briefing with the local sheriff, Derrick Heat, went well except for Castle freaking out over the man's name.

"Really what are the odds?" he asked repeatedly, earning the irritated glances from the rest of his team. "Oh come on, Derrick? _And_ Heat?" After his initial delight and Beckett's patented "Focus, Castle," reiterated one too many times made him…well, like magic, it worked.

Once he focused, his mind immediately went to work on the problem. Three women and a man were missing. A fifth victim, the first to be abducted was a man in his early twenties had been found dead on the shore of the lake. All of the victims had ties to New York City as well as Saranac Lake. The victims' photographs were circulated among the law-enforcement and volunteers. Castle recognized two of the women and the dead man. Not physically: he'd never seen them before, but he'd sensed the Aggregate immediately in the women. It was much more subtle in the dead man, but he felt the residuals. He supposed it was because the man was dead. The other woman and man were not gifted.

The three he identified as gifted had all been abducted from New York City. All three lived solitary existences. No known family ties or active social lives. Sadly, that happened frequently with the gifted. Although they were able to manipulate the physical world, make something from other things, they were, too often, unable to make friends: afraid that their secret would be revealed. They'd only been missed because they didn't show up for work. The sheriff did not know if the missing victims were actually a part of the case, but because of their parallels to the murdered man, he was assuming that they were.

The bottom line of the briefing was that they had very little to investigate, but the rapidity of the crimes demanded immediate action. After having given everyone copies of the photos and reports as well as assignments, he dismissed the group. The homicide team from the twelfth precinct was assigned canvassing, much to the chagrin of the two younger detectives.

* * *

"Mr. Castle," Sheriff Heat called, as he, Beckett and the boys were leaving the conference room.

Castle turned around as did Beckett, Ryan and Esposito. The sheriff smiled warmly. "This is personal," he stated, dismissively to Castle's partners.

Beckett wasn't happy about being sent out, but Castle nodded. "I'll be right behind you." And under his breath, he added, "Probably just wants an autograph." He grinned at them until they closed the door behind them. Castle turned to the sheriff warily. "What can I do for you sheriff?" he asked after confirming again for himself that he was not Aggregate.

"I know who you are," the sheriff stated flatly.

"Really," Castle hedged. He narrowed his eyes and asked, "And who is that?"

The sheriff looked around the room and moved closer to Castle. He dropped his volume. "I understand that you've been given certain authority."

Castle stared at the man. Years of concealment and restraint had him holding his tongue. He was certain that this man was not gifted, but how would he have gotten his information: current information, no less.

"Look, I know about the Aggregate." Castle's face remained impassive. "I know that you are gifted," the sheriff continued. "I'm not," he explained unnecessarily.

Castle began, "I don't know…" only to be silenced by the sheriff.

"I know all about it and we don't have time to waste on secrets and denials," he pled; the desperation and sincerity rolling off him in waves.

Castle still hesitated. "Let's try a hypothetical situation to make sure I understand you." The sheriff nodded. "Let's say that I understand everything you've been saying. What would you need from me?"

"I'd need you to come with me."

Castle's eyebrow arched. He glanced at the door where his partners exited. "Where?" he asked.

"To the breach."

"If I had any idea of what you were talking about, I'd still need to see my partners first."

"They can't come."

"Why not?"

"Have you told them anything? Hypothetical or otherwise? About you?"

He looked toward the door again. "My partners think we're here to help find the four missing people and solve the murder of the fifth."

"We don't have time for you to demonstrate your gifts and win their trust."

"What makes you think you've got my trust?"

* * *

Kate kept staring at the door to the conference room. She had a case and wanted to get started, but the thing in the forefront of her brain was that Castle was still in there. There was something off about the sheriff that she couldn't quite pinpoint. He kept staring at Castle as he gave his briefing.

"Maybe the guy recognizes him from when Castle was here as a kid," Esposito offered.

"You think that's why the guy was staring at him?" Ryan asked. Apparently, she wasn't the only one who thought the sheriff's behavior odd.

"Beckett?" Espo stood, ready for action. It warmed her heart. "Should we check on him?"

Everything in Kate wanted to shout yes, full breach, but instead she said, "The sheriff said it was personal."

Espo scoffed. "I don't believe it, do you?"

She pursed her lips and huffed. "We'll give him another twenty seconds." She ended trying to alleviate her own worries as well as her detectives.

* * *

"I know that your kind are all about secrets, but my sister was gifted. It's kind of hard to hide when you grow up together."

"Was?"

The sheriff dropped his gaze to the floor. "She...she's gone," he said with difficulty.

The man's tone made him realize she wasn't on a trip. "How?"

"What does that matter? She's gone."

Castle just stared at the man and suddenly knew: swift, inflexible and usually, final. "What did she do?"

"Hypothetically, let's just say," the man began; his voice was dark and quiet. "She crossed them."

A chill seized Castle and he shuddered involuntarily.

Sheriff Heat continued. "She knew the rules and the risks."

Castle wished he could get a read on the man. "I'm sorry," Castle offered. He personally hadn't known anyone who had crossed the Aggregate. He didn't know anyone gifted who was that stupid.

"It was a waste. Her only crime was that she loved someone who didn't love her back."

The chill came back and he rubbed his hands together. Rick understood: his suspicion of the man had stepped aside in deference to his grief. _'Was it only last night that he was frustrated by his own very similar situation?'_ He asked himself _. 'Could he have gotten so desperate to try and break that rule?'_ He breathed deeply. He realized he wouldn't ever have to find out. Castle looked at the door again and then turned his back on it. "Take me to the breach," he said.

* * *

Beckett stood tapping her heel against the linoleum, glancing at her father's watch every five seconds or so. Her tapping kept rhythm with Ryan's finger drumming on the table next to the chair he'd slumped down into and Esposito's exasperated sighing.

He finally looked at her and asked, "Beckett?"

"Yeah, let's go."

They went back to the door and she opened it and strode through. "What the hell, Castle? We need to…" She let her admonition trail into vapor like the mist gathering over the lake. The room was empty.


	6. Black Magic

_A/N - Wow! You guys are great! Thanks for all the reviews, follows and favorites, some of you have even added me to your list of favorite authors. If your reviews, follows and favorites are my pay, that's my bonus! Thank you so much!_

 _If you are familiar with my writing, then you are aware that sometimes I let the characters run in the direction they'd like to take the story. Yeah. I'm anxious to read what you think about this installment. Please let me know._

 _Enjoy!_

 _~GeekMom_

* * *

 **The Possibility of Magic**

 **Chapter 6**

 **Black Magic**

"Castle," she called as she and her partners unholstered their weapons and cleared the conference room.

Espo, using his bad-ass, Detective Esposito voice, not his good-time, let's play Madden, friendly Esposito voice, asked, "What the hell?" to no one in particular.

"Guys?" Ryan called. "Um, did either of you see that?" He headed toward a table at the front of the room. A piece of paper and a pen lay on its highly polished, deep mahogany veneer.

"See what?" Beckett asked.

Ryan looked at his partners. "Um, nothing, I guess. Just the paper...and the...um, the pen."

"What about it?" Beckett demanded.

He nervously looked at his partners. Maybe it was just his imagination or leftover hangover, but he would swear that he just saw the pen writing on the paper, by itself. He holstered his Glock and rubbed his eyes. "Nothing, I guess. It's a note."

"From who?" Espo asked.

"It's 'whom,'" Ryan said automatically filling in for Castle.

"What?"

"It's, 'from…whom'?" Ryan said tentatively. He had had a bad case of hero worship ever since Castle walked into the precinct. Castle was the cool kid; the kid everyone wanted as their friend, except Beckett of course, but he was smart and funny and successful. Everything that Ryan aspired to be. He'd even started writing. He wasn't anywhere near as good as Castle, but he was trying. Castle once told him that the best way to become a writer was to write and then write some more and still some more. He looked at it as his duty to point out the same things Castle would in his absence.

"Thanks, Castle junior," Espo snidely remarked while shaking his head.

Beckett was bent over the note, examining every stroke and every nuance. "Castle wrote this," she declared. "I'd know that handwriting anywhere."

"What does it say?" Espo asked.

"Read," corrected Ryan, unobtrusively toward the floor.

"Dude!"

"Well, it doesn't actually _say_ anything," he muttered.

"Seriously, Ryan: you keep trying to be Castle and you won't actually say anything except through a sign language."

"Technically, you wouldn't say any…" he hesitated after Esposito sent a scorching visual warning shot across Ryan's bow. "Never mind," he conceded.

"Guys," Beckett snapped. "It's from Castle. He… _wrote,"_ she emphasized, as she glanced at Ryan,"that he went with the sheriff to sign his book."

"Really?" Espo said incredulously as he slammed his own Glock back into his holster. "What happened to solving the case or cases? Something's off, Beckett." He shook his head. "Castle wouldn't just leave, not without talking to us. You feel it too and Ryan…well, you can't tell anything by him: he wants to be Castle when he grows up. Just, what the hell is going on?"

Ryan looked back and forth between his partners. He felt it, too. Rarely did he question his ability to observe. He, as well as the other two detectives in the room, had been trained in observational skills. He was a champion of Kim's Game, no matter how much Castle tried to cheat. He knew he saw the pen moving over the paper, but it couldn't do that, could it?

"You got something, Ryan?" Beckett asked.

"Um…" he hesitated, "No, I don't…" he looked at the inanimate pen. He reached out and nudged it. "No, I guess not, Beckett."

"Good. Castle said, I mean, _he wrote,_ that the Sheriff was taking him to the lake."

"It's February," Ryan stated.

"So? You think he's going to swim?" Espo shook his head. "The dude probably lives there." He rolled his eyes and marched out of the room.

"Come on, Ryan. We're supposed to canvas." Beckett nudged his shoulder.

"What about Castle?"

"No one said we couldn't canvass the lakefront properties." She raised a challenging eyebrow. "Did they?"

"No," he mumbled.

Kate picked up the note. "We'll pick him up there," she said confidently and strode past Ryan who was still fiddling with the pen. He picked it up and dropped it resoundingly on the table. He held it in one hand and waved his other hand through the air around it. She stopped at the door and stared. "You coming, Ryan?"

"Oh…yeah," he said. He placed the pen back on the table and walked out the door she held.

Kate looked at his note again before stuffing it her jacket pocket and read, _'Kate, Sheriff Heat and I have gone to the lake. He has a house there and that's where he keeps his copy of Storm Chasers. Don't come to the lake, I'll catch up with you later. Oh shit.'_

So many things he had written in the note brought up questions. He had never written a book named _Storm Chasers_. He must have known that they would follow him to the lake: why would he write where he was going only to tell them not to follow? Why would he write 'Oh shit,' and not the reason for the curse. She swallowed her uncertainties, her better judgement and her fears in favor of focusing on finding him. She followed the boys to the parking lot and met them there just as she remembered that they had come in Castle's car.

 _'That could explain the oh shit,'_ she thought. "How the hell are we supposed to do anything or go anywhere without…?"

Beckett yelped and jumped back as if she'd been burned. Her eyes widened as she thrust her hand into her pants pocket and pulled out the offending object: a Mercedes key on a Castle shaped key ring. It was warm.

"How did…" Espo began.

Beckett shrugged. "He must have slipped it to me earlier." She squealed and then turned around ready to pulverize the jackass who goosed her, but no one was there.

"Beckett?" Espo asked.

"I just felt…" She shook her head. "It must have been a cramp."

"Ew; an ass cramp." he smirked. "Castle will be sorry he missed that."

"Just get in the car," she ordered. She followed, but not before she looked behind her again.

Ryan stared at the key dangling between Beckett's fingers and then looked back at the conference room door, not entirely convinced he had actually been seeing things.

* * *

Castle followed Sheriff Heat out a back door to his waiting cruiser. He felt conflicted: he should stay with his team, and knew that he'd loudly hear about his decision later, but he was compelled to accompany the sheriff. There was something about him and his story, plus the added bonus of his name that drew Castle to the man.

He empathized with the man about his sister. He understood the reasons behind the severe and inflexible rules. It was physics: it was not magic. No one gifted could conjure something from nothing. They could reform, switch, and manipulate one material for another. They could summon, but only if balance was maintained; trades for instance, like the cash for the coffees. The bottom line was that they couldn't make something from nothing: nothing like life from lifelessness, success without work and love from emptiness. When you tried to make something from nothing, it had to be taken from somewhere else. You could almost think of it as theft.

He understood, but although he'd never try to manipulate or disregard the rules, he had far too much to lose; he'd still cheer for the underdog, that one who would bet against the odds, tilting at the windmills. He smiled to himself: that was a lot like Beckett: a champion for the victims.

"When did you find out?"

The sheriff's question brought him out of the haze of his musings. He'd learned to relegate the extraneous noise from the Aggregate's attempts of communication to the furthest reaches of his mind. It was almost as if he'd stuck the conglomerate in a box and clamped the lid on tightly.

"What?" he asked for clarification, but he was only buying time. He knew what information the sheriff wanted.

"You know: your gifts," the man explained. Castle noted impatience in his tone. He stared out the front window, noting their route. It had been a long time since he'd been to the lake.

"I, um... Tell me about the breach," he redirected. His family and Roy were the only ones privy to his abilities. He didn't talk about them with anyone else.

The man looked disappointed. "Well, okay then, but I'd rather know what you supposedly can do."

Somewhere in the back of his head, alarm bells sounded. Castle closed his eyes and began writing a note back in the hotel's conference room.

Satisfied, he opened his eyes. The sheriff said, "I thought you took a little nap."

"No, just thinking. Tell me what I'm going to see when we get there."

Heat gripped the steering wheel a little tighter. "It's kind of hard to describe."

Castle frowned. The man was being deliberately evasive. He sighed and said, "Okay, I guess we'll just have to wait and see." He turned his face to the window and shut his eyes again. They flew open, "Damn: a key," he mumbled. Shutting his eyes again, he concentrated. He wasn't sure how effective he would be because of the distance.

He yelped, "Ow, oh, oh ow." Which garnered a suspicious look from the sheriff, but Castle didn't reveal the reason for his outburst, he just grinned stupidly. He rubbed his leg where the hot metal had melted the material of his pants pocket and seared the underlying flesh as well. He should have removed the key from his pocket. Maybe he should have just sent the ring instead of making it castle shaped. The message in the form of the key ring took more energy. When you manipulate matter, it tends to get hot. _'Hot,'_ he thought and let his mind wander to a memory: a vision of Beckett, after the Tisdale case, walking away from him, swinging her hips a little more than normal. He indulged himself and watched her delicious ass and thinking how great it would be to grab that and envisioned that very thing.

"Hey," the sheriff said quietly as he touched Castle's arm. "We're here."

* * *

Beckett looked in the rearview mirror at Ryan, who lost the rock-paper-scissors determination for the front seat. Her youngest partner had looked troubled since they'd found the note. "Ryan?"

Esposito looked at her at the mention of their partner's name. He swiveled his head. "Are you still pouting?"

"I haven't been…" he began to protest and then realized that Esposito had just baited him. He pursed his lips and snapped, "What do you want Beckett?"

Kate raised her eyebrow. He could see it reflected in the mirror. "Whoa, Ryan. I want to know what you saw."

"What do you mean?"

"You've been distracted since we found the note."

"Yeah, but it's Ryan," Esposito provided.

Beckett shook her head. "Come on, Kev; don't listen to this buffoon…"

"Hey!"

"What's up?" Beckett persisted.

"You'll say that I'm nuts."

"No, no I won't. Look if you think it will help with the case or track down a wayward and particularly thoughtless author, then spill."

Ryan looked out the window at the passing scenery of a February landscape devoid of color and quaint small town buildings: businesses and homes alike that looked bleak and stark in the harsh mid-winter light. "I don't know if it has anything to do with the case or Castle, but when we walked into the room. The pen was moving."

"Moving? Like rolling, like someone had just dropped it?"

"No." He inhaled as if bracing himself. "It was moving...like it was writing."

"Dude," Espo exclaimed.

"I know, I know…" He held up his hands in surrender. "Okay? I know how it sounds. That's why I didn't say…"

"No, man," Espo said quietly, "I saw it too."

"What?" Both Beckett and Ryan asked concurrently.

"The pen…I saw it writing, too. I thought I was going loco."

Beckett pulled the Mercedes over to the side of the road. "Are you two still drunk?"

The boys looked at each other. "No" and "Nope" resounded in the small space.

"Look Beckett," Espo looked down at his lap as if he were ashamed about witnessing the strange phenomena. "It was scary. Pens don't move on their own where I come from."

"Dude, you come from New York," Ryan reminded him, helpfully.

"Have you ever seen that happen before in New York or anywhere else?"

"No," Ryan admitted.

Beckett considered everything she was hearing. Either both of her partners were certifiable or something else was going on. She thought about watching her grandfather's magic tricks when she was a little girl, but they had all been sleight of hand. What Ryan and Esposito were saying was impossible. There had to be a logical explanation.

* * *

He and his escort got out of the car. The forces and noise that had inundated him before were more intense here. It made sense: they were practically standing on top of the source. Castle surveyed the area. They were standing in the middle of your typical lake front village. A few artsy restaurants with docks over the water, a gallery and trappings of civilization: a gas station, a library, a bank and a tourist trap, which sold souvenirs made by the gross halfway across the world having no connection to upstate New York or the lake with its particular and peculiar properties. It was exactly how he'd remembered it, as if someone had taken a picture twenty-five years ago and preserved it in an album.

The wind gusted sending a cloud of debris, natural and man-made, swirling down the lane in a mini-cyclone. Castle shuddered as the chill wrapped around him.

Sheriff Heat had started walking toward a building. Castle stood immobilized by input no one else on the street could recognize. The sheriff stopped, turned back to his guest and waited with his hands on his hips. He looked at Castle impatiently, with his arms folded across his chest, as if the writer had overstayed his welcome or he was a naughty child in need of discipline. "Are you coming?" he asked querulously.

Castle shook himself and stumbled toward the man. "Sorry, just distracted."

"It's this way."

"Yeah, I remember the way." He shook his head and headed toward the theater. Castle remembered the restored play house. When the sheriff opened the inner door, the smell hit him like a fist. The musty pong of age combined with the oily redolence from the gas lamps that had lit productions for several decades gave the interior a permanent distinctive stench. It didn't stop him and his band of cronies from the camp from attending Saturday afternoon thrillers or comedies shown on an honest to goodness reel to reel projector all those years ago. It didn't even prevent them from enjoying popcorn, home-made candies and ice cream from the sweet shop next door.

Castle moved through the auditorium with purpose, leaving the sheriff following behind. He knew where to go. There was a trap door under the stage which led to a series of interconnected tunnels. He'd often wondered about the safety of the tunnels especially after he'd written about Derrick Storm using similar tunnels for an escape from a little town west of Prague. Having seen it again, the description was spot on. The lichen adorning the walls along with the occasional stalactites or stalagmites and various mushrooms in the darkest corners were almost certainly taken from his memory of the tunnels.

* * *

She considered her partners and then narrowed her eyes. "Did Castle put you up to this? Is all of this some elaborate practical joke?"

Ryan looked at Espo's neck until the latter turned around. It was a partner moment. Finally Espo answered for them both. "I wish," he lamented. "No, Beckett, it's no joke. We don't know where Castle…" He was interrupted by Beckett's phone.

"Beckett," she answered, hoping it was Castle.

"Detective Beckett, put Castle on the phone. His damn phone isn't working." The gruff voice of the commander ordered.

"I…he's not here, sir: he is working with the local sheriff."

"Damn it," Montgomery muttered. "When will you see him? Are you supposed to meet?"

All she could offer her captain was apologies and promises and unknowns. She glanced ruefully at her partners.

"Aren't you supposed to be babysitting your shadow, Detective? Wasn't that the deal? That when you went into the field, you were responsible for him?"

Kate sat back, flabbergasted. Montgomery had never raised his voice to her before and it wasn't as if this was the first time Castle had gone off on his own. Hell, just yesterday (God, was that only yesterday?) They'd been kicked off the taskforce because he went rogue. They'd almost died in the freezer, because of his damn out of the box thinking. She stammered, "I…I'm sorry…sir…he…um, he was there…and then…"

"And then?" Montgomery prodded.

"He went with the sheriff. He left without telling us, sir."

Esposito spoke up, loudly enough for the captain to hear. "Beckett didn't know anything about it, Captain."

Ryan joined the defense, but it could have been for either Beckett or Castle. "Yeah, but he left a note."

"Beckett, put me on speaker." She did as she sent an, _'Oh shit,'_ look to her partners. Her brain was on overtime. _'What would make the captain so upset?'_ she pondered.

* * *

Stumbling over an uneven surface, Castle bumped his arm across the rough surface of the many stalagmites which reached out from the wall like stubbly fingers eager to pinch and snag. Heat urged him forward. Castle rounded the last corner before they reached the dome; an area roughly the size and height of an NFL domed stadium, but geometrically shaped like a seven pointed star with fourteen angles of convergence where an Aggregate member could focus their energy, directly under the lake where the elements and stars aligned, providing the universe a portal and the Aggregate with the abilities he had hidden his entire life. The seemingly bottomless karmic well was situated in a triangular union of the dome, the poles and certain stars, known for their astral properties.

There was natural lighting, although it was now darker than he'd remembered. Even though little Ricky Rodgers had been innately curious about the lighting, how it worked and where it came from, he was never allowed to explore. It was lit and that's all he needed to know. He stopped. In the dim lighting he identified the four missing people. The two women he had identified as Aggregate had been shackled to the stone floor at two of the fourteen natural intersections of the star. Eleven others were bound similarly: one at each juncture. Near each of the junctures was other people, including the remaing missing woman and man, also shackled, some conscious some not, some were crying, all were scared. He hadn't been given the gift of empathy, but he could feel their pain.

He spun on the sheriff. "What the hell is going on?" he shouted angrily. "Why are these people here?"

The sheriff hung his head. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry about what?"

"They said they could give me Sheila, they could bring her back. I just had to deliver…you."

"What do you mean…" he began, but stopped as a chill invaded the dome. He looked around, but felt like he was just missing the shadow of something, following the roar of the biting wind. It was as if he couldn't look directly at it, but could see it in his peripheral vision. He felt like he'd been trapped in an enormous cold constricting fist, but he couldn't see anything. He couldn't catch his breath. He began to rise. He had levitated small things, a tumbler of scotch, pens and paper, one of his books; hell, even condoms, but a body?… _'no,'_ he corrected himself, _'a person. He wasn't just a body…yet,'_ his brain supplied. Panic invaded his mind and soul and then he heard a sound that crushed his spirit and drained the rest of the warmth from his body.

"Dad!"


	7. Skepticism: Thy Name is Beckett

_A/N - I'm back. Sorry for the hiatus (we, in the Castle fandom, hate that word, don't we?) - work, moving, kid stuff - you all know the drill. Thanks to everyone that has followed and added to your favorites. I'm especially enjoying your comments. This story is so far off the wall from anything I've done previously, it's reassuring to read your positive comments. When it's complete, I will respond. Well, when it's complete and after I've updated Martha's Heart and The Courtship of Katherine Beckett. I do appreciate all of my readers who stick with me. Thanks for your patience._

 _Enjoy!_

 _~GeekMom_

* * *

 **The Possibility of Magic**

 **Chapter 7**

 **Skepticism** **: Thy Name is Beckett**

"Beckett, put me on speaker," Montgomery said gruffly to his star detective. He stood and walked to the door, surveyed the bullpen and closed it. He sighed and returned to his desk. He closed his eyes as he sat and leaned back in his chair. The chair screeched in response. He had put a maintenance request in three times already to have the damn thing fixed. He shut his eyes for a moment while he waited for Beckett to comply. He wasn't as good with the mechanics as Castle, hell, he wasn't as good at anything as Castle, but he merely had to picture a well-lubricated pivot point. He opened his eyes, sat forward, and then leaned back. "Shit," he cursed as he sat forward again. There was no squeak, but there was no limitation either. The thing was well on its way to reclining and dumping his ass on the floor. "Damn it."

"Sir?" Beckett's concerned and filtered voice filled his closed-off, but fishbowl of an office.

"It's nothing, Beckett. Just chair problems. Esposito and Ryan are you there also?"

"Yes, sir," they answered together. Montgomery shook his head. If they didn't work so well together he'd have them reassigned. The unison thing was creepy.

Montgomery inhaled. He'd need a clear head to tackle the issue before them. Castle would be pissed, but the game had changed, so must the rules. "Good. Now that I have all three of you," the captain spoke in an eerily calm voice. "How the hell did you lose your civilian ride-along?" The question was no longer calm. Roy knew that something was going on at the source. He still couldn't believe what had happened. He'd sent them up there with Castle because if anyone alive besides Alexis could control him, it was Beckett. He'd never heard of the universe being so agreeable or desperate when he was contacted about Castle, but their offer was so tempting that he'd volunteered his friend. He had the feeling that he'd been had. He'd always known that his friend was special, even for one with abilities he stood out as especially gifted, but what was it about him that resulted in the present turn of events?

"Are you alone?" Montgomery asked.

"Yes, sir: we're in Castle's car."

Montgomery took a few seconds to compose himself. "Alexis is missing," he said and was answered by a cacophony of swears, oaths, some in Spanish by Esposito.

"Guys," Beckett yelled above the racket. "What happened, Sir?" she asked when her partners quieted.

"Martha called and said she hadn't come back from walking on the beach."

"Did she call the locals?" Espo asked.

"No, she…" He sighed again. He couldn't see a way around telling them about Castle's gifts. "No she hasn't contacted the police in the Hamptons because she has a pretty good idea of where Alexis has been taken and why."

"Sir?"

"She's there, Beckett."

* * *

"Dad!"

"Oh God, Alexis? What…but, why are you…how?" he stuttered, stunned by her presence. "Are you all right?"

"Daddy? I'm…okay, um…just scared," she said in the same small voice he recognized as the one he heard from his little girl when she woke him after a bad dream.

His heart clenched in his chest. He used all of his strength to twist until he saw the crushed, defeated form of the sheriff. "She's only sixteen! How in the hell can you do this?"

"I wasn't given a choice," he replied sadly.

"There's always a choice: you can choose to do good or you can choose to do evil," he yelled as he struggled against the invisible restraints.

"I had to get her back, she was all I had." The man dropped his head even more and began to retreat to the tunnel.

"Wait, what did you say? You told me that your sister was dead. It doesn't matter how powerful any of us are, we can't change that. Not one of us can bring her back."

"She's not…" He hesitated and peered around the room, his eyes resting briefly at the center. "She was taken," he whispered.

"Taken? What do you mean taken? Do you mean like these people? Who took her?" Castle desperately looked around the room also, his eyes zeroing in on his daughter. "Did you…trade all of these people for your sister?"

* * *

"Here," she repeated. "Why would she be…? Why would anyone even know to bring her here? We just got here a couple of hours ago ourselves." The creases on Beckett's frown deepened.

"There's no easy way to tell you this so that you won't think I'm nuts."

"I've heard some pretty crazy things today, sir. Try me," she said while looking at her partners.

Montgomery was silent for a moment. Beckett checked her signal strength just as he spoke. "Castle has certain…authority there."

* * *

"No, no I was just supposed to get you."

"Me? How did…? Then, how did my daughter get here?"

"That wasn't me," the sheriff defended.

"Then who?" Castle looked as if he would rip those responsible a new one.

"I…I don't know." The man sighed. "There are Aggregates here and someone that will ensure that they cooperate. I guess that's your daughter for you. Do yourself a favor and just do what they say." He looked forlornly at the twenty-eight captives, people held against their wills in his jurisdiction. It went against everything he had ever stood for, except his devotion to his sister. "I have to go," he finished. "I've already said…"

"No! God, please. Let her go. Please Sheriff Heat, Derrick. Please, she's just a kid."

"I…I can't. I'm sorry," he said as he backed away from the dome. He turned and ran into the tunnel.

Castle continued to wriggle within his constraints, to try to find a weakness or a chink in the armor. He struggled to turn his head and body so he could see all of the dome. His eyes kept going back to the frail visage of his daughter. She was and always would hold his focus and his concern. _'If he could see her, she'd be okay,'_ he irrationally reasoned. He reluctantly dragged his eyes away and caught a glimpse of a group of people kneeling in a circle. They wore hooded robes. He could have almost laughed at the unimaginativeness of the scene, as if it were from some cheesy horror movie. A steadily brightening blue glowing light emanated from the center of their circle, but he couldn't see its source. The group was surrounded by another circle of six-foot tall white pyramidal candles. Tall skinny pyramids of wax and flame.

He felt himself being lowered to the last vacant intersection he'd spied when the sheriff delivered him. He recognized that whatever the scheme was, it would probably be complete with him as the final part, locked into place. He closed his eyes and pushed the panic and fear that was rising like bile, threatening to drag him under and drown him and concentrated.

He concentrated on his breathing first, only to snap his eyes open at the sound of a scream from the tunnel. Castle willed himself not to imagine what could have invoked the horrific sound. He closed his eyes again and calmed his breathing and then his heartbeat. He felt his strength and power settle itself back down into that part where the universe resided. He grimly smiled then he went to work on the candles.

* * *

"What kind of authority?"

Their captain was quiet again and then he sighed. "Okay, just listen with an open mind. Castle has certain abilities."

"Sir?"

Ryan frowned and tentatively asked, "Can he move things?"

A light of dawning recognition hit Esposito straight between the eyes. "Yeah, can he…say, write with a pen when he's not even in the room?"

Beckett glared at her partners. They were taking the joke on her too far.

"Yes, I'm sure he could," Montgomery confessed.

"Oh my God!" Beckett exclaimed. "Is Castle behind this? Sir, I don't think joking about Alexis being kidnapped is funny."

"Joking? Beckett, I wasn't joking. Why do you…?"

"Both of these _purported_ detectives turned comedians said that they saw a pen writing on a piece of paper, the note that Castle left, on its own. Ha, ha, very funny: all of you. Now, can we stop trying to punk me and find Castle and the missing people?"

"Kate, we're not…" Esposito began along with Ryan who said "Please, Beckett…" in harmony. They looked hard at each other and Esposito shook his head and sighed. Ryan shrugged. He opened his mouth to continue and so did Ryan, but Espo held his hand up to his partner. Ryan snapped his mouth closed and nodded.

"Kate, we're not joking or trying to punk you. Some freaky-ass shit is going down here and it involves those missing people, Castle and now Alexis." He paused to take a breath.

"Yeah," Ryan jumped in, "We would never joke about Alexis: you know that."

Beckett looked back and forth from the seemingly innocent to the overtly suppliant faces of her partners. Her internal dialogue was in constant argument with the arguments presented externally. There was no way that Castle made the pen move, if indeed the pen moved at all. She was still leaning toward the theory that this was all an elaborate practical joke. She had no evidence that Alexis was involved at all, just Montgomery's claims. Castle could have easily bought both their partners, the sheriff and Montgomery off to insure he pulled off the ultimate prank on her. She shook her head. "I'm not falling for it," she declared. "I've been the victim of too many pranks at the hands of evil genius Cas…" She suddenly grabbed her thigh, remembering the key ostensibly coalescing in her pocket. She had convinced herself that he must have given it to her after arriving at the hotel; she simply forgot or that she was too distracted by the case and their developing relationship, the stress of the past few days or anything else where she could place the cause. _'The key seemed to appear out of thin air,'_ she mused. It was what her grandfather would have said when pulling a sleight of hand trick. _'Trick,'_ she repeated silently.

"Captain, are you implying that Castle is…" she paused and inhaled, steeling herself against her own internal arguments. "Are you saying that he is…that he is…God…that he is mm… magic?"

Montgomery chuckled even in the face of the dire situation. "Magic? No, Beckett. No, he's not magic. Matter of fact, he'd be the first to explain that it's not magic, but…how does he say it? He says it's a manipulation of nature and physics."

"You've known about this? Before now?"

Montgomery was silent. He had decided to out Castle purely because of the situation. His friend couldn't be angry with him for trying to locate his daughter. Roy knew Castle would do anything for Alexis, even come clean. It did not mean he needed to come clean himself. "Yes," he answered simply. First rule if you're ever interrogated is to answer the question: do not elaborate.

Beckett, however, was a master interrogator. "How?"

Montgomery was not prepared for the follow-up and fumbled before answering. "It's not really important now," he dismissed. "The important thing is finding Alexis and Castle."

"Sir, if Castle is magic or whatever," she exasperatedly said. "Why can't he just wave his wand and _avada kedavra_ them or something?"

"It's not Harry Potter, Beckett. Look, Castle is smart and strong, but he isn't invincible and probably needs whatever help you can give him. You just need to know what you might be up against."

"Whoa, sir," Ryan interjected. "Is there more than one…is there someone else who can do mag…I mean the physics stuff like Castle?"

"Yes, detective; I think that's who you'll be fighting, but you've got the universe on your side. You've got this."

Beckett shook her head. The whole story was too fantastical to believe. She frowned. _'Would it be fantastic or fantastical?'_ she asked herself. She unexpectedly remembered a couple of their cases from the fall. A witness, Albert Moreno said that the victim, Vivien Marchand, an alleged psychic, begged him to let the universe sort things out and then he said it did. Penny Marchand, the victim's daughter, who also said that she sometimes shared her mother's gifts, claimed that she had a dream in which a man named Alexander would be important in Beckett's life. Castle, who's given middle name was Alexander, had also wormed his way back onto her squad after his summer away at the Hamptons with Gina by offering that it was a sign that they had crossed paths again. _'A sign from the universe,'_ he said with conviction, _'telling us we need to solve this case together. You don't want to let the universe down, do you?'_ He truly believed the universe would and could help, so did Montgomery, apparently.

* * *

He opened his eyes to the shrieks of the robed people. He had successfully tipped the candles along with their molten wax and exposed flame over onto them. He felt the invisible restraints loosen briefly and heard soft moans as captives began to collapse out of their trance-like state and crumble to the floor.

The grip around him tightened further causing a whine to escape his own lips as he felt the oxygen forced from his lungs. He silently pled with the Aggregate to help in his fight. His vision began to swim as all the strength drained from his body.

"Daddy," Alexis' anguished call pierced through the haze taking over his senses.

* * *

She looked at her partners in silence after Montgomery ended the call, contemplating everything that had been said and that they experienced over the past day. She could count on Ryan to be open and willing to believe any theory that Castle spewed on any given day or case. Since he'd started helping with cases, he offered vampires, time traveling killers, kidnapping aliens and dozens more of implausible and capricious explanations of events and crimes. She expected Esposito to be practical. Like her, he was more about hard evidence, not fanciful theories of fairies and magic dust, but he was on the other side of this one. She shook her head: they were all on the same side. The side trying to solve the mystery, if they weren't, they were doomed.

' _I respect the universe. You don't want to let the universe down, do you?'_ His words echoed in her ears, repeatedly. She closed her eyes and pictured his face as he said them. He truly believed his words, it wasn't just a ploy to get her to accept him back on the team as she thought at the time.

She remained skeptical of the cause; she had to believe in the evidence. It had been seared onto her DNA because of years of being a cop. Castle believed in the possibility of magic, but it frightened her. Nonetheless, she put the car in gear and headed toward the lake. Whatever was happening, whatever the cause, it was taking place there.

* * *

 _A/N2 - I too, am standing in solidarity with my fellow fan fiction authors against the vicious trend in anonymous reviewers._

Dear Authors.  
Please delete all negative anonymous troll reviews. If we all simply delete them, their bile won't there to be read along with and detract from helpful reviews. Please ignore them as the silly, pathetic, and lonely little creatures that they are. Please help them crawl back under their anonymous rock until they've evolved enough to walk out and gain a name. If and when that happens we will all be happy to have civilized discussions of our work.

Dear Trolls,  
Don't even bother. You will no longer get free reign to terrorize and spew your vile. Find another playground.


	8. The Master of the Macabre

_A/N -_

 _Yep, it's me. I know that it can be frustrating waiting for updates on my stories and I'm sorry about that, but this is a hobby for me and like everyone else, I have responsibilities that usually take precedence over the fun stuff that I do just for me. I appreciate your continued patience and can only offer the promise that I will never not finish a story._

 _Thanks to everyone who has read, reviewed and followed. That feedback tells me that you enjoy this as much as I do._

 _For those who celebrate, Merry Christmas and even if you don't celebrate Christmas, I wish you all the joy and peace this season brings to me and my family._

 _I will be updating Fan Girl, Martha's Heart and The Courtship of Katherine Beckett soon, as well. Please feel free to pass the time catching up with those stories or any of my completed tales. Then, if you're still looking for some great reading try Aalon and Perspex13 - I Fan Girl for these two authors. (See what I did there?) ;-)_

 _Thanks to FuelDH206 for coming to my rescue with a fantastic metaphor._

 _Enjoy!_

 _~GeekMom_

 ** _The Possibility of Magic_**

 ** _Chapter 8_**

 ** _The Master of the_** ** _Macabre_**

They arrived at the lake just as a cold front descended upon the town, cloaking it in layers of wintry grays. Beckett shivered, but she wasn't sure if it was because she left the warmth of the heated seats for the second time that day or of the icy, dismal milieu of the town.

"Place seems kind of deserted," Espo said as he rotated a full 360 degrees next to the front passenger door.

Ryan clambered out of the back seat. "Well, it is winter. It's a summer resort place, right?"

"Mostly, I guess, but where are the people who live here?"

"I had a friend that I met at camp one year; he was from Massachusetts, lived on Cape Cod."

"Tough place to live," Esposito commented.

"Yeah, I guess. He said that, because of the tourists, the place was bustling during the summer, but after Labor Day it shut down like a man picking up chicks in a lesbian bar. Maybe it's the same here."

Both Beckett and Esposito looked at each other and then at Ryan. Espo shook his head, attempting to get the colorful image his partner had planted there out of his head. "Um…okay, but they still live here, right?"

"Maybe they're shy, Espo," Kate offered sardonically.

"Where do we start?" Ryan asked in a hushed voice in deference to the ostensibly abandoned lakeside town.

"We could look for the Sheriff's car," Beckett suggested.

"You can call the cap and see if he has any more information." Esposito shook his head again. "I have serious doubts that we're qualified for this kind of take down."

Beckett rolled her eyes, but then measured her pragmatic partner and his apparent buy-in of the captain's story. He had her wondering about and considering the outlandish claims herself.

She dug into her pocket for her phone. She looked at it and made a face. "Damn it," she muttered and held it aloft, turning around in the searching for cell reception dance. "No service. Either of you?" she asked.

They each pulled out their phones, danced a bit as well and both shook the heads. All three aware of the verdict: they were on their own.

They walked on the sidewalk toward the middle of town, each with their hands on their weapon. Esposito nearly drew on a cat that jumped out from under an overturned wheelbarrow. "Shit," he yelled and then took a deep breath. The incident, as Ryan dubbed it, broke the quiet and some of the tension, in almost the same way Castle would have.

Beckett took in the scenery as they crept closer to the lake, Ryan and Esposito on point. She could easily imagine a ten-year-old Castle skipping stones across the lake, dangling his feet off the dock into the cool water or, more likely, getting into mischief along with a certain precinct captain. Castle wrote that he was going to the lake, or allegedly the pen did, she took a moment to re-roll her eyes and scoff as the sheer absurdity of the claim struck her again. All four of her so-called partners and captain would have to cough up some serious payback if it did turn out to be a prank. She pursed her lips and shook her head in her partners' general direction.

The stillness surrounding the lake made her feel like she was moving through a photograph or painting. It was unnaturally quiet. With the exception of the cat, they had not come across any other living things: no dogs barking or crows cawing from the treetops, and the most telling: no human noise. Even the air was still, as if all of nature held its breath. She shook her head and frowned as she heard Castle's voice in her mind correcting her use of the word nature to the universe.

"Hey," Ryan called; his voice unnaturally echoed off the glassy water. "There's a patrol car." It was parked outside of an old playhouse that had been converted for movies. A mist hung in the air: by the theater's box office, obscuring the double-doored entrance, thicker there than anywhere else in the town.

"Creepy," Espo offered. He hadn't taken his hand off of his gun at his hip since he got out of Castle's car. Espo liked everything neat. He wanted everything to shut up, fall in line, stand at attention and do the job. He even preferred his murders that way: a Jack shot Bill over Jill love triangle where he could solve it quickly, get his collar and go home. After he'd been assigned to Beckett's team, he was more-often exposed to the disturbing underbelly of homicide. Beckett liked the freaky ones; the ones you had to immerse yourself in in order to sort through the obstacles and navigate the twists and turns of the homicides. The ones that made you question humanity's treatment of humanity. Coincidentally, they were the same kind of homicides Castle fabricated and wrote about in his books. Beckett read his books and so did Ryan and Lanie. He had tried, but for all his experiences in Special Forces and everything he had seen as one of New York's finest, he couldn't bring himself to read the horrific accounts of despicable acts in the books.

"Yeah," Ryan agreed as they walked into the lobby. "Man, what's that smell?"

Beckett held her gloved hand over her wrinkled up nose. "Old theatre: greasepaint, oil lamps, must and age. My grandfather used to perform his magic in amateur contests in places like this all over the eastern seaboard. Come on," she said as she pushed through the gilded inner double doors to the theatre.

* * *

When he came to he was looking at the vast ceiling of the cavern. He inhaled deeply several times, sucking down the oxygen. He felt as if he hadn't inhaled; really deeply breathed recently as if he'd held his breath a bit too long while swimming a long distance underwater. He raised a hand to his head, but his arm snagged just before he could reach his head. He had been shackled just like the rest of the captives.

"Daddy?"

He turned his head at the sound of his daughter's worried voice. She sat to his left, stretching to brush her fingertips toward him; even so she barely reached his hand.

"I'm okay, sweetie," he said even though he grunted as he sat up. Blinking, he asked, "Are you hurt?"

"No, just…where are we? What is this place? Is this some weird religious cult? What do they want with us?"

Despite their situation, Castle allowed himself a second of familiar comfort and a small smile. His daughter had always had a million questions about everything, ranging from their visits to the Natural History Museum to her feelings to her quest to discover how she fit into the universe and more. He always did his best to answer her truthfully and completely. She was much smarter and much more self-aware than Castle was at that age; hell if he were completely frank, he'd have already acknowledged that she was much smarter than he was, even at his current age, but as her dad he felt it was his duty to hold back a little knowledge, especially if it was his ego that might take a hit.

"Pumpkin," he soothed and stretched to attempt to complete the connection between their fingers. "I'm going to get us out of here. I don't have all the answers, but I'm working on it."

"But why…?"

"I don't know, yet." He looked around again at all the other captives. All of the hostages were frightened, but the other bound Aggregates in addition to their fear, were all looking at him with… _'What was that?'_ he pondered. _'Shit,'_ he said to himself when he figured it out a second later. "It's hope," he whispered.

"Hope?" Alexis repeated. "Hope for what, Dad? Is Detective Beckett with you?" Her eyes grew wide. "Did something happen to Beckett? Is that how they got you?"

He exhaled. "No, I came here with Beckett, Ryan and Esposito and they are all fine, as far as I'm aware. I thought I was coming here to help someone." He grimaced as he confessed, "But, I was played and brought here instead."

Alexis looked at her dad with understanding. He always tried to help. He always tried to make things better or smooth the way for people, anticipating needs, wants and creature comforts before they were asked for. He took care of the people he cared for: her, Gram, the precinct and he even looked after his ex-wives more than he probably should. He liked to pamper his friends and family. Most people were grateful, but some took advantage of him like her mom, and some resisted his efforts, suspicious of his ulterior motives, like Beckett.

"So what is this place?"

He surveyed the cavern again, pivoting his neck left and then right. He gave a nervous smile and a small nod to anyone he happened to make eye contact with. He had no idea how to get them out, but apparently they all assumed he was their…He gulped before he completed the thought: their savior. He sighed heavily again before turning his eyes back to his daughter who, he knew, had been watching his every move.

"Okay, I know you don't like to talk about this stuff, but you know about my…well, my gifts." She nodded, drew her knees to her chest, wrapped her arms around them and stared at her toes: a vertical fetal position, he noted. "Well half of the people here also have gifts and the other half, including you, appears to be hostages."

"Why? Why would they take us?"

"I…" He spared another glance before continuing. "I don't know. I do know that something has happened to upset the balance. We call it the breach. Someone or something," he glanced at the group of mindless, robed sycophants before he continued, "or perhaps a group is trying to steal the Aggregate power. This place," he indicated the room with his gaze "is called the source. This is where we draw the power to perform our…abilities. It's like a giant universal divining rod."

Her eyes widened. "Are…are you the dowser?"

"Me? No, oh God: no. No, I'm just one of many. No one person is in charge. Oh…well," he squinted and muttered, "Roy, he…I'm not normally, but now? I am I guess?" Castle frowned as he thought about how his friend had promised him and his talents. He couldn't shake the feeling that Roy hadn't told him everything about his deal. Neither could he consciously bring himself to apply the word _'betrayal'_ to their relationship. It took a lot to shake his fealty to anyone. He smiled reassuringly at Alexis who appeared to be contemplating her own relationship with 'Uncle Roy' or perhaps the universe.

* * *

The process of contacting the universe could easily be mistaken for meditation or praying. Montgomery had spent the greater part of his life evading, dodging or otherwise flying under the radar of the ubiquitous cosmic law enforcement of the universe, like a teenager avoiding cops while in a stolen joy ride. Like praying to a deity, you never knew if your request had been granted until there was evidence of it.

When Montgomery had been contacted about the breach, he thought he was dead. Literally, in his trance-like state, he truly thought he'd died: he was alone in what he thought of as an empty parking garage. The energy identified itself as what he recognized as the universe and then he assumed that past sins had finally caught up with him and he was about to face judgment, but then the conversation (more like a sensation than conversing) turned to Castle.

Roy learned that it was Castle's determination and will that had focused the Aggregate's collective power, which (against all odds) disarmed the bomb preventing any residual or reactionary event. Truly, the bomb still should have blown when he yanked all of the wires and just as truly, under Castle's direction, the Aggregate prevented the disaster. The universe noticed.

* * *

"There's nothing here," Espo declared as he emerged, stage left of the projection screen.

Ryan walked down the aisle clapping the dust from his hands. "Nope, nothing up in the booth either." He jogged up the steps and joined his partner on the stage. "Javi, do you…"

"What, Bro?"

Ryan rubbed the tickle at the back of his neck. He snatched a cobweb off his shoulder and did a month's worth of cardio trying to get it off his fingers. "Shit, that's creepy." He shivered involuntarily. "Do you think Castle could have done, oh I don't know what they call it if they're not magicians, but do you think he could have done some kind of trick and disappeared somehow? Like, to another place?"

"Nah, if he could do that, why would he log as many hours on flights? Why wouldn't he just magic himself there?"

"Because Montgomery said that's wasn't how it worked," Beckett said as she hoisted herself onto the stage. "Anything?"

After receiving the negative reports from her team, she filled them in on her own fruitless search.

"Maybe they didn't come in here," Ryan supposed, shaking his head.

"So where did they go, then Castle junior? Maybe you can do magic too if you try hard enough to be just like Castle."

"Guys," Beckett reprimanded. She sat down on the stage and even though she thought that her connection to Castle was based on similar thought patterns and problem solving abilities, she closed her eyes and imagined his insufferable smirk, the way his eyes shone when a theory was borne out to proof, the residual tingle she felt in her lips after their kiss. Opening her eyes, she tilted her head to work out the kinks in her neck. She inhaled sharply and leaned even closer to the stage.

"Boss?"

"Beckett?"

"There's…something…" She kneeled and pressed her cheek directly on the old stage. Blinked and then sat up abruptly. Ryan and Esposito were both scrutinizing the area.

"Ah," Ryan snorted and then sneezed.

"See it?" Kate asked excitedly.

"Damn," grunted Espo. He shook his head. "How do we open it?" He held up a finger and gasped before he headed backstage; flipping the century-old velvet curtains on his way past and sending plumes of dust and age into the lighted stale air.

In the middle of the stage was a trapdoor. Probably put there for illusory effects of the staged productions of the past: quick changes or disappearances. There were scuff marks leading to the hatch, but only visible in the lights at an angle. There was no handle or other visible means of opening it.

Esposito returned with a screwdriver and made short work out of prying the door open. They lowered themselves under the stage. It was dark and dank. Beckett lit her flashlight, which was repeated by her detectives.

"Christ!" Ryan yelled as he turned and shined his light on a clown mask hanging on the front wall, yellowed and cracked, the thing looked malevolent as if it just jumped out of every boogieman-infested nightmare of Kevin's childhood.

"Dude, aren't you Catholic? How many Hail-Marys is that gonna cost you?"

Ryan shook his head. "Clowns don't count. Clowns are evil and must be vanquished."

"Guys, come on," Beckett called from the darkness to the left.

They stopped abruptly on either side of her and gawked. There was a carved out entrance to a tunnel, which whistled slightly with air currents. She could feel the air pressure changing, moving her hair slightly. Kate frowned.

"There's something above the door," Ryan said.

"Yeah, what's it say?"

Ryan huffed, but didn't correct him again. "Castle was here."

Esposito frowned. "It actually says that?" He shouldered past a frowning Ryan to get a closer look.

"No," Beckett smiled at the breadcrumb their partner had left them. "It reads, 'Booyah!' Come on." She strode purposefully into the tunnel, confident that they were on the right track and that Castle left the trail.

* * *

He slowly opened his eyes, stood and looked around at the deserted place, instantaneously aware that he if he were to believe his senses, he'd swear that he stood in a newer elevated parking garage in mid-town. Newer meant that it was probably erected on the site of closed and abandoned neighborhood businesses from a bygone era, bulldozed to feed the ever-growing hunger of parking to the ever-expanding city. He loved the excitement and discovery of the city that changed constantly, but he also mourned the loss of familiarity and the times gone by.

The air smelled of oil drops, gasoline, exhaust, and snow and rain-washed concrete. A cold breeze whistled through the ramparts and he could almost see a faint whirlwind of snowflakes, as if determined to alight someplace different, swirling up the ramp. The wind riffled his hair and he shivered. He pulled his pea-coat closer and jammed his hands in his pockets. The gray of the garage blended with the gray of the weather: fog and clouds jockeying for dominance over the city. He'd visited that place before. That was how he knew he wasn't truly there: that and the other person who was in the garage.

"Roy," Castle said as he approached his friend who was sitting Indian style with his palms resting on his knees and his eyes closed. Castle scowled. "What the hell are you doing?"

Montgomery opened one eye and peered at the representation of Castle. "I'm communing with the universe."

"You look like every cliché ever written in spiritual and self-help books," Castle scoffed.

Montgomery, sighed, unfolded his legs and stood slowly, which would have been necessary had he actually been there. As it was, he was still sitting in his office at the twelfth. One of the benefits of telepathy was that your knees didn't pop, creak and groan in protest upon movement from an improbable position.

"What's going on?"

"Currently Alexis, twenty-six others and I are being held at the source."

"Shit: twenty-six?"

Castle nodded and confirmed, "Plus the two of us. Half are Aggregate and the other half, their designated hostages. That's why Alexis is there. My best guess is to make me do whatever they want."

"Held? By who," he cleared his throat, "I meant by whom?"

"Nice catch." Castle shook his head. "Whoever it is, is still unknown and so is whatever the hell it is that they want." He narrowed his eyes and stared out at the storm clouds, past Montgomery's head. "I can't fathom what the end game is. Best guess is that it has something to do with focusing all of the Aggregate's energy, but I can't figure out why or to what they think that will accomplish for them." He closed his eyes; a pained expression on his face.

"Rick? You okay?"

His friend wavered, as if he were suddenly a projection, which truthfully he was, but had originally appeared corporeal and then he didn't. Castle opened his eyes, but they were lifeless.

Roy walked toward him. He had seen that look too many times in his career. A victim had the look just before they died.

Castle, whose appearance reminded Roy of Obi Wan speaking to the Jedi Council shook his head and then winked out of existence.

Roy looked around, but already knew he was gone. Panic and fear enveloped him and soon he was back at the precinct, sitting stiffly in his chair at his desk. He slowly and painfully unclenched his hands. Taking several deep breaths he concentrated and willed himself to relax. He had to speak to the universe. He had to save his friend.

* * *

"This is so freaking creepy," Esposito croaked.

"This formation is familiar." Ryan shone his light upon a rock outcropping that resembled a throne. "This reminds me of something."

"Shit, everything reminds you of something."

"Like what?"

"Like the indecent exposure we booked last week, the one we stumbled on when we did the canvass for that girl." Ryan winced. " _He_ reminded you of your mother's uncle…"

Kate grimaced and groaned, "Wait, the perp with the tattoo?"

Both Ryan and Espo nodded. She asked, "Your Uncle Patrick?" Ryan nodded again. "He has a tattoo on his…? How do you know?"

"I don't…I'd rather not discuss it," Ryan said cutting her off before the disturbing image could imprint itself on his conscious mind again.

Espo continued, "And how about the fries we got from the street cart yesterday? Remember them?" he asked and then he spoke in a falsetto voice and swung his hips as he walked away from Ryan. "They reminded you of Jennie's golden hair." Espo shook his head appalled, as he concluded mocking him.

Ryan shook himself and persisted, "I'm serious, it…" Ryan held his flashlight higher and inspected the walls of the long dark tunnel. "Got it!" he shouted. It resonated down the passageway, brushing by the moss, hopscotching the stalagmites, and ducking the stalactites.

Both Beckett and Esposito turned their flashlights on him causing Ryan to squint.

"Well," Beckett demanded.

"Derrick Storm used an identical tunnel to escape from Prague," he said proudly. "Get it?" His partners looked at him blankly. "It means that Castle has been here before."

Kate rewarded his observational skills with a smile, which she dropped as a cold gust rushed down the tunnel. "Let's go," she said.


	9. Alakazam, Jackass

_A/N - Well...Hi!_

 _If you've been waiting for an update to this story because it's been nearly three months, thank you for your patience. We all write about how life has gotten in the way of our writing and that's true. I personally can't devote as much time to this hobby as I do, say, my job even if I wish I could. But, that's not the only reason behind my glacially slow posting of this chapter. It's because I wanted to finish the story. I wanted to make sure that all (or most, because I'm not perfect) of the intricacies of this universe made sense. I've been back and forth over the remaining 18,000+ words many times to make sure I haven't contradicted or left a detail hanging without explanation. I think I've done it. I probably haven't, but it's close._

 _I'll post another chapter each day this week. In the meantime, please enjoy. (I'll be going over the remaining chapters, yet again._

 _Thanks again for reading and for your patience. This has been an interesting journey and I have an all new respect for those who write fantasy. I'd love to hear your thoughts on my little version of reality._

 _~GeekMom_

* * *

 **The Possibility of Magic**

 **Chapter 9**

 **Alakazam, Jackass**

* * *

"This must lead to the surface somehow," Ryan stated as he vigorously rubbed his hands up and down his arms.

"How could you possibly know that? Did your old buddy Derrick's tunnel turn up a way out?" Espo scoffed.

"It did," Kevin asserted petulantly. "But that's not the reason. The air temperature in here is too cold not to have direct access to the surface."

"It's freezing outside, Dude: of course it's going to be cold in here."

"Actually caves keep a remarkably consistent temperature regardless of the conditions on the surface." He patted the rough rock surface of the walls like he was patting a beloved horse. "It's generally around the average temperature of the area," Ryan explained, turning back to them. "In this cavern, that should be around fifty-five degrees."

Esposito pursed his lips. "Thank you Mr. Wizard or maybe," he chuckled, "you're a Al Roker wanna be. So, your theory is that this leads to the surface?" Kate bit her lip.

"I'm just saying that it's a possibility…and that we may have an alternate exit."

Beckett, amused by her partners' never-ending ersatz-arguments, stayed out of it and quiet, and peered into the darkness before them. Her flashlight beam bounced off the stalagmites and stalactites populating the ceiling and floor of the tunnel, so crowded in some places it made passage difficult. She shivered again as her imagination made the rocks coalesce to form some monster's giant maw stretched open before her, displaying pointed teeth all around. She could even see the beast's uvula in the distance. Kate shook the fanciful image out of her head and pursed her lips. That was Castle's fault. She never used to imagine teeth-baring, giant monsters or their throats at crime scenes.

The thought made her lips quirk into a slight smile and could just hear the echo of their ongoing disagreement about the supernatural over lunch at Remy's a few weeks past:

 _He slurped a third of his chocolate shake and then pinched his nose, his shoulders quaking because of the inevitable, but preventable brain freeze. He quirked a grin mischievously and exclaimed, 'you'd think I'd learn.' Kate sucked in her bottom lip and shook her head, suppressing a snigger and an urge to nod her head vigorously because of her partner's juvenile antics and quietly sipped her hot chocolate before offering the soothing warmth to her partner. She loved Remy's shakes as much as her partner did, but the below freezing temperatures and snowstorm outside made her choose the warm beverage. It was logical._

 _She held out her mug to him, but he shook his head once._

' _No thanks.' One more rub on the bridge of his nose between his index fingers, a quick exclamation of 'Whoa,' and then he narrowed his eyes like a laser focusing on his target. "Back to my point, I'm just saying that you should be open to the possibilities around you.'_

' _I'm open to possibilities, Castle, but I've seen too many supernatural happenings explained and justified not to believe that there is always a logical and reasonable explanation for everything.'_

' _Absolutely," he agreed. Everything does have a reasonable and logical explanation, but how can you know that we know what we actually think we know, or for that matter that we know everything,' he slyly grinned as he licked the remnants of chocolate from his lips._

' _When I figure out what the hell you just said, I'll let you know." She ghosted a grin around one of the fries she pilfered from his plate and lifted another pointing it at him. 'Why is this so important to you? Why do I have to believe in fantastic possibilities when there are already so many unbelievable things that actually happen every day?' He frowned and she went on to explain. 'You know genius; the things that you and I see every day; the things that people do to each other, that have me questioning the world as it is. It's enough to believe that people can do any possible number of heinous things to others.'_

' _That's exactly why you should be open to the other possibilities,' he said, almost sadly. 'I don't want you to miss any wonderful, unanticipated or amazing things about this world. I don't want you to believe that there is only the dark side.'_

' _Do they have cookies, Anakin?' Proud of herself, she snagged another fry, dragging it through the ketchup before placing it between her lips and sucking the red condiment off. She lifted her eyes when he didn't respond to find him staring at her, completely mesmerized, his mouth hanging open, she only broke the spell when she stuck her tongue out at him._

 _Castle inhaled and blinked, the haze clearing from his eyes, before he leaned forward and whispered, 'How will you ever see fairies if you've already decided that they don't exist?' When she rolled his eyes, he amended, 'Hmm, too much? Too much au du Grimm?' That earned him another eye roll and a huff. He nodded. 'Okay, I can see that fairies may be too far out there for you,' he conceded. Narrowing his eyes, he put forth, 'How about — how will you ever recognize all the magic,' in response to her unimpressed and nearly bored expression, punctuated by her folded arms over her chest, he explained, 'not Neil Patrick Harris magician kind of magic; that magic's not real. No, I'm talking about the magic in the beauty, romance and…the…um,' he dropped his eyes to the now shared basket of fries between them before finishing, 'the love all around, how will you see it if you're only looking for…only open to practical explanations for it all?' She pursed her lips in response. 'Look, I just want you to be able to see the writing on the wall if you need to. Promise you'll try?'_

' _I'll consider it, Castle,' she agreed and by the look on his face you would have thought she'd promised him the moon._

Kate inhaled the mineral laden air deeply, shaking the memory from her head. He was so earnest, but not to get her to see it his way, well not only that: he didn't want her to miss the wonder. She wished she could just be free and let her mind accept all the possibilities he saw: all the magic that came so easily to him.

* * *

Drawing in a breath, he felt as if his lungs had not functioned for years. He consciously made them expand and deflate. He took another breath in through his nose and abruptly raised his head to look around the cavern. Cherries. He smelled cherries.

"Dad?" His daughter sat curled up into herself, a panicked look in her eyes.

"It's…"

"You were talking and then you smiled at me, you scowled and then your face kind of went slack like you fainted, but you were still sitting. You… you wouldn't answer." She breathed shallowly between outbursts. "It was how you are when you're writing, only not. We're here and no…um…no computer…and …um…"

"Alexis, shh, sweetheart, I'm okay. It was just…" he hesitated, not wanting to upset her further, and then he looked around, reminded himself where and why they were there. They were in the middle of the source, surrounded by other Aggregate and their family members. Anything he said about his gifts couldn't possibly freak her out any more than the direction she was headed. He inhaled. "Alexis," he said firmly. He needed her to listen, not to be swallowed in the rising tide of her panic. "I know you don't like to hear about it, but it's our reality right now. I was…um," he sighed. "I was speaking to Montgomery." Her eyes grew large. "I gave him intel about our situation, he is sending help."

"But…why…how?"

He spoke quickly and kept his tone and volume low, hoping Alexis would use the same control. "I'm here because of my abilities; you're here to make sure I do what they want. I promise you, that I won't let anything happen to…"

"Who, Dad? Who is it and what do they want?"

He looked helplessly at her. His mind had been working on that particular problem since before they left Manhattan. Exhaling, he blinked and surveyed the cavern again. Nothing had changed in the last hundred times he looked. "I wish I knew…"

As if answering her question, cold permeated the cavern as if the air conditioning had been switched on and a voice intoned, "Little Ricky Rodgers." For the second time in just a few moments, Castle's face went slack.

* * *

The tunnel seemed to go on for miles, some passages easily traversed, other were so narrow they had to squeeze through. Castle was bigger than any one of the three of them. He must have had a hard time navigating through them as well. She swept her flashlight over the stones and formations and froze. "Ryan? Haven't we seen this pitchfork kind of stalactite before?"

"Don't tell me we've been going around in circles," Espo added a few selected curses in Spanish.

"There haven't really been any clear intersections. How could we be retracing our steps if we're not turning left or right?" She swung her flashlight from one wall to the opposite.

"Maybe it's a giant circle," Ryan offered. He heard Beckett's huff more than he saw it. "Maybe we just missed a turn."

Kate sighed. Ryan was almost as much as an optimist as Castle was. She just wanted to find Castle and Alexis, find the sheriff, solve the murder and disappearances, and go back to the hotel where the only exploring she wanted to do had to do with Castle's mouth.

There was a scale-model castle, complete with towers and spires formed of stalagmites. On one of the spires was a small rectangular piece of blue material, as if the lord of the manor had displayed his banner.

"Hey, you guys: look at this." Kate pointed her flashlight on the fabric.

"That looks like Castle's shirt," Ryan supplied. "Like a little flag. Hey: a flag on the Castle castle."

Esposito looked at Beckett and raised an eyebrow. "Looks like Castle left us another breadcrumb."

"Yeah, let's hope that we beat the birds to the next one," she muttered.

"Or the bats," Ryan added helpfully, earning a glare from Esposito who nervously rubbed his hand over his hair while ducking his head away from imaginary flying creatures.

Beckett stopped short causing both her partners to bowl into her back.

"Shit, Beckett. What?" Esposito let out a low whistle. "Shit," he commented.

Lying on the floor was the sheriff, along with a young woman they didn't recognize. Sheriff Heat was still dressed in his uniform as he was at the hotel, but the woman wore a dark blue robe, cinched at the waist by a braided belt. Ryan squatted next to the sheriff and felt his neck. Esposito copied his partner's actions near the woman. Ryan raised his eyes to Beckett's and shook his head. Espo did the same. Both dead.

Esposito searched the woman's body for ID and shook his head a second time.

"Castle," Ryan whispered, peering into the darkness.

"What?"

"You think Castle did this?" Javi rejected loudly with his tone and posture.

"What? No! No, I just…if he left with Sheriff Heat and now the guy is dead…just…where's Castle?""

"We're going to find him, Ryan, and he's _going_ to be okay," Kate asserted.

The unfortunate sheriff and his unidentified companion would have to wait. They didn't have any communication with the outside world and didn't know who they'd be able to trust if they did, outside of the captain who was six hours away. Their priority became Castle and Alexis after they spoke to Montgomery. Kate had the feeling that all of it, the disappearances, murders and whatever Castle's part was in all of this were all connected: interwoven and if she pulled the wrong thread at the wrong time, it might all unravel with her partner and his daughter right in the middle of the whole web. The trio left the grim reminders that they were still entrenched in the middle of a murderous battlefield behind them and continued into the dark.

* * *

Roy Montgomery made his way to the homicide floor's break room. He was never a champion coffee drinker like Beckett or even came close to understanding the nuances of the brew like Castle did, but he felt drained and wanted a cup. Telepathy followed by communing with the universe would do that to a guy, especially if the guy wasn't used to it.

He was still worried about what Castle had told him but felt confident that his concerns were…heard? Or…maybe read? Perhaps just felt. However the communication with the universe happened he wasn't sure that his people would receive help. He hoped or at least convinced himself to hope.

"Damn it!" It wasn't enough. The captain stared down into the light tan concoction that he would swear was flowing through Beckett's veins and made up his mind. He gulped the rest of the cup, placed it in the sink and headed back to his office. Grabbing his coat, keys and service weapon, he moved toward the elevator and the parking garage. After letting the duty officer know he was leaving, he headed to Saranac.

* * *

"I know that voice," he muttered while looking all around the cavern.

"Dad?"

"Shh, shh," he hissed and narrowed his eyes while tilting his head.

"I understand that you've been practicing, Mr. Castle," the voice patronized. "That you've done something none of these other laggards can even imagine. While they use their gifts for the mundane and obvious and then celebrate their uniqueness—privately, of course, you and I have been honing our skills. Bigger fish to fry, huh?" he asked, his tone dripping with contempt but also admiration.

Castle frowned. "I don't…I don't know what you're talking about. Who is speaking, anyway?" He twisted his fettered body, trying to get a fix on the echoing voice. It seemed to come from all surfaces and crevices of the cavern.

"You just saved the city from a nasty bomb…" Alexis' eyes became bigger and rounder in shock. She knew there was a crisis, but she hadn't known about the bomb. The voice continued, "Because you were able to organize the rabble and rouse them to your cause. A bigger cause, one greater than self…because," the voice continued, but sounded irritated and acerbic, "we all know anything for personal gain is against the rules…right?"

"The rules are there for a reason, a safety net; a buffer. How did you get around…"

"The rules don't matter if you don't want them to."

Castle couldn't help but think that he sounded like one of the many privileged boarding school classmates that thought they were above the rules. The rules, he was made to understand, were made for scholarship kids, like him. _'My youth was very Orwellian,'_ he supposed sullenly.

The voice explained, "The altruistic rules only apply if you're weak: if you don't know how to organize the Aggregate to a greater cause…like you do. You and I, we both know how: we could rule this puny planet. We just need the other members to band together in support of a greater vision. The Aggregate is like Supermen compared to the ungifted Lois Lanes of the world. Think of all we could accomplish when we all work together united under our rule. The Aggregate will willingly fall over themselves just to be a part of the new order."

"Willingly? Like these people you've imprisoned here?" He knocked his chains against the granite floor for emphasis. "You sound more like General Zod."

"So be it," the voice conceded, disinterestedly. "I'm prepared to do what is necessary. Are you going to use your extraordinary gifts for making coffee the rest of your life or will you become my lieutenant as I remake the world?"

"If I refuse?"

The chamber echoed with a maniacal laugh and Castle wondered, not for the first time, why every villain felt it was necessary to laugh. It seemed to be requisite: evil equaled a protracted, self-serving, raving lunatic laugh. Was there an internet class to perfect your laugh? A society of evildoers perhaps? He speculated that if you didn't have an evil enough laugh, you did not get your certificate or diploma. The evil laugh trope had really been overdone.

His uneasy musings were brought to an abrupt halt by his daughter's cry. "Daddy? What…" Alexis was lifted into the air and was hung upside down, tethered to the rock floor by the chain around her wrist as if an unseen hand held her aloft by her ankle and slowly rotated her as if she were some perverse balloon caught on an summer's evening updraft.

"Baby, it's okay. Shh, I'm right here. Put her down," he demanded. Setting his jaw, he focused his thoughts on releasing her. The cackling increased in volume and intensity even as his daughter was caught in the middle of an invisible tug of war.

"Daddy?"

"It will be okay, Pumpkin. Look at me Alexis. Concentrate on my eyes. Only hear my voice."

She did as she was told and soon she couldn't see or hear anything save her father's loving eyes and soft, reassuring murmurs. A peace came over her and she felt free as if she were floating, unencumbered. She was no longer looking into her Dad's eyes, but flying. It was beautiful: wide-open spaces, green meadows and mountainsides, a crisp blue sky and warmth, like the sun was beating down on her as on a summer day. The scenery was familiar, but not; almost if she had been transported into a storybook her father used to read to her. Suddenly, she realized someone held her hand. She looked down and recognized her father's hand. She looked up into his face. He smiled reassuringly at her.

"Alexis, he can't hear us here."

"Where, Daddy? Where are we?" Her voice sounded like it had regressed several years, back when she still had him check for and then unquestionably believed that he had vanquished the monsters under her bed. He wondered if he heard her younger self because of how she felt; afraid or small or if it was the way he always heard her in his head.

"We're still in the cave, Baby, still restrained, but," he sighed, "For lack of a better explanation, this is my mind."

"Your mind?"

"Yeah, kind of freaky, huh?"

She looked around her again and raised a devilish eyebrow, the one she'd inherited and learned to perfect from him. "It's a lot quieter than I would have guessed."

He allowed himself a mirroring indulgent rise of his eyebrow and a self-deprecating grin in agreement. "Yeah, me too," he chuckled. "Even so, this doesn't last long and takes a great deal of effort, so Sweetheart, when we go back," he paused to breathe; it was already becoming more difficult. The telepathy didn't come easily with another Aggregate member let alone when it was a one-sided effort. He wasn't even sure it would work; he'd never tried it before. "When we go back, I need you to be as calm as you are now. I'm going to figure out a way to escape, but I need you to be calm. I'm not sure but I think he's using the panic and fear of the hostages in the room to his advantage. That's the way it feels. Can you do that for me, Pumpkin?"

Alexis swallowed and locked her eyes on his. "Yes Daddy," she said. Uncertainty and fear briefly resurfaced as he let her hand go. She felt as if she was falling, but she kept staring at her father and kept drinking in the calm on his face and deep within his eyes, letting his strength suspend her, letting herself trust him not to let her go just as she did when he taught her to swim.

"It's okay," he reassured her from what sounded like a distance. "That's my…"

"Girl!" Rick grunted and crumpled to the rock.

Alexis found herself back in the cavern, but sitting on the floor. Her wide, still panic-stricken eyes surveyed the cavern beginning with her semi-conscious father and continuing around to the others held and resting finally on the group of robed people. She shivered and then remembered; slowing her breathing, focusing on what her father asked her to do.

Not all gifted could communicate telepathically – not clearly anyway, sometimes it was just a feeling. Castle concentrated on calming Alexis and the other twenty-six captives; a feat that took most of his already diminished energy, but he spared a little to leave a note for Beckett and the boys. He hoped they had followed his breadcrumbs. He kept his eyes closed, concentrated on his message and projected calm and soothing thoughts. Until he was no longer allowed.

"Mr. Castle," the man whispered darkly. Castle continued to play possum right up until a robe-clad goon kicked him in the lower back. He thought that if they were there for a spa day, then they should be more relaxed, more mellow.

Castle opened his eyes slowly, continuing his ruse. "I know you," he said to the face hovering over his.

"We've met…yes." The man nodded, assessing Castle openly.

Castle cracked his neck before moving. "You're Stryker…um," he snapped his fingers. "Benny Stryker, um aliens, abductions: you wrote that book." Castle stared at the man as he sat up. "The Marie Subbarao case."

Stryker smiled—not pleasantly. "Excellent memory Mr. Castle, but you and I both know that aliens don't exist. I recognized you immediately three months ago, well not you personally—I don't read your kind of drivel. You have an aura. I recognized that. You're gifted…an Aggregate."

Rick narrowed his eyes. "My aura?" He had heard that some people could read others and while he could feel another Aggregate, he couldn't see an aura.

"Yes," Stryker continued, "Yours is blue: it matches your eyes. Now, as I was saying, you and I know that most extraterrestrial events," (he mimicked air quotes around extraterrestrial), "are just perpetrated by a superior humans _like you and I_ ," he proclaimed haughtily and then slyly smiled. "It _is_ a great way to make money from the masses, though."

"Feeding on the fear and uncertainty of the masses, you mean. Don't include me in your," he also made air quotes as he said, "group," Castle spat angrily as he stood as upright as he could. He needed to have some semblance of equal footing with the implicit lunatic before him.

"Look around you, Mr. Castle: you, your daughter and everyone else here are _already_ a part of my group," he snarled. "A new and improved Aggregate, if you will. One outside of the archaic and obtuse rules we've had to endure our entire lives."

"What is it that you want, Stryker?"

"Want? I thought I was clear before. Are you really as smart as everyone thinks you are? As these poor fools think you are?" He spread his arm indicating the other hostages. "They hope that you're going to save them." He shook his head and waved his index finger back and forth. "Ah, ah, ah: sorry, just one save per week, I think." He winked and smiled at Castle. "Maybe that will be in the new rules, too. Let you feed that hero complex of yours."

"I don't have a hero complex, I only want to help," he answered quietly. "I don't understand why you need us: all of us," he indicated the two dozen, plus people. "Why here and why now?" Castle probed.

He did understand. He understood that it was the end of February. Which, as we reckoned it, was as important to the Aggregate and Saranac Lake as Memorial Day was to Manhattan, or more precisely Manhattan-henge. Twice a year, the setting Sun aligns perfectly with the Manhattan street grid, concurrently illuminating both the north and south sides of every cross street of the borough's grid: a beautiful sight, one that he and Alexis observed many times dressed in their 'I heart New York' tee shirts and celebrated with the city's finest in tubular cuisine. Those two days happen every year close to Memorial Day and Baseball's All Star break around the middle of July.

At the end of February, Saranac had its own version of a cosmic event although it didn't involve the sun or hot dogs, as far as he knew. An amazing astronomical event: an alignment of heavenly bodies. Castle shook his head imperceptibly. A distracting image of Kate Beckett entered his mind: the cause was easy to discern; two trigger words: heavenly and body.

The celestial event concentrated a great deal of energy over the region, causing harmony from the normal Aggregate discord and white noise prevalent in the area. Although it was a calming, serene event, it was also powerful and dangerous: most Aggregate shied away from the phenomenon in fear and ignorance.

"Come, come, Mr. Castle; of course you do," Stryker sneered. "You know that it is the end of February. Surely you must know the significance of the month."

Unexpectedly, the seriousness and gravity of the situation tilted on its end as if the coming planetary alignment made him and the whole cavern weightless and the situation's bad, B-movie ludicrousness snuck into its place, thus Castle, having found confidence in his humor, denied, "I really don't…and don't call me Shirley," he threw on the end a la Leslie Neilson, unable to stop himself.

' _For an older man, Benny Stryker is remarkably spry,'_ Castle thought as he picked himself up off the floor, gingerly rubbing his jaw. He glared at Stryker, swallowing blood from the cut on the inside of his cheek.

Alexis started to speak, but Castle held his palm up. He looked at his daughter and apparently conveyed that he was all right and that she should be quiet.

Castle stood; he needed to face this madman on even footing. He regarded Stryker who was whispering to a robed man. "So what's your end game, Stryker?"

Stryker turned back to Castle, having dismissed the help. "I thought it was obvious."

"A new world order," Castle spat, "the gifted lording over the non-gifted."

Stryker shook his head, sighed then chuckled disdainfully and, rapidly coming close to Castle's face, his cold gray eyes stared right into Castle's as he whispered, "Don't you see?" He spoke to Castle as if he were speaking to a child. "If we're allowed the freedom to be who we are, not only can we accomplish great things and get the respect we deserve, but we can help those beneath us."

"Help those…um beneath huh," Castle scoffed as he glanced pointedly around the cavern. He made eye contact with a woman in her fifties. She wore a face heavy with exhaustion and fear, but he could see the telltale signs of life-long joy and humor around her eyes. Castle assumed that the hostage nearest to her, a man who looked to be about the same age, was her husband. Like he and Alexis, they had stretched their hands toward each other, fingertips barely making contact, nevertheless, the contact was important; it was everything. He thought of Beckett and how someday, given what they did and their track records, they might have to risk everything just to touch. He thanked the universe that that was at least possible now. Castle glanced at his own connection with his child: she was keeping him grounded. He smiled gently at the woman and hoped it reassured her. She wanly returned the smile and nodded her encouragement.

Pausing his observation several more times, he made similar visual connections with other Aggregate and hostages, some gifted he heard telepathically, but most, he did not, ending finally on the still-frightened eyes of his own daughter. She was putting up a good front; he could see the bravery and trust in her posture and attitude. It reminded him of when she came to terms with trusting him to teach her to swim. She was determined, not so much to learn to swim as she was determined to trust him fully. Her heart swelled: at no time in her life did he wish she had inherited at least some of his gifts as he did in that moment. If she had been gifted telepathy, he could continually reassure her, but as it was, the sound of his voice would have to do. "It's okay, Pumpkin. It will be okay, I promise."

"I'm so happy to hear that, because with your cooperation, more people will follow and finally we will be free of the chains of oppression."

' _This guy is unbelievable,'_ Castle thought. _'Cheesy, melodramatic and unbelievably dangerous topped with a god-complex and paranoia on the side.'_


	10. The Writing on the Wall

_A/N - Hey!_

 _I don't think you believe that this is done. Great readership since yesterday, but you guys are really quiet. I hope that you're still enjoying the story._

 _More tomorrow!_

 _~GeekMom_

* * *

 **The Possibility of Magic**

 **Chapter 10**

 **The Writing on the Wall**

* * *

"Did you guys hear that?" Beckett stopped short and held one hand up to Ryan's chest behind her while holding two fingers of the other against her lips. All three detectives stopped. Stopped moving, breathing and listened.

Esposito was the first to break the silence. He scowled and whispered, "Is that laughter?"

"Creepy laughter," Ryan expounded.

"We must be close," Beckett said as she reached for her gun.

"Yo, Beckett?" Espo's slack jaw got her attention faster than his call. He gestured to the wall. She swung her head around, blinked several times, snapped her own slack jaw closed and held her flashlight on the area. There on the wall was graffiti etched into the wall of the tunnel warning them to keep their guns hidden or they'll be taken.

"That's Castle's writing," Ryan stated.

"Yeah," Beckett agreed, "But how?"

Espo shook his head, but kept his flashlight and eyes on the spectacle in front of them. "Nah, Beckett: that is Castle's writing, but it is Castle writing it…now...from somewhere else, like Montgomery said. Shit."

The stick's end glowed red hot and cooled to black cinder before it moved again and Beckett felt a cold shiver run down her spine as she read,

 ** _'28 hostages, +/- 13 Kool-Aid drinking, bath-robe wearing underlings and 1 bat-shit crazy ringleader—Just ahead 500 ft. Hurry, but be cautious. Wait for my signal.'_**

All three of them watched the stick drop to the ground.

"Same shit as back in the hotel," Esposito observed.

Ryan nodded and let out a sigh of relief. "You believe us now, Beckett?"

Kate didn't know what to think. She'd just witnessed an impossibility, but it _was_ Castle's handwriting as if he were invisible, but that _was_ impossible…right? She had to focus on what was real, tangible and verifiable so, although it was weakly, she shook her head— she'd have to deal with the impossibility later.

"What kind of signal?" Ryan mused as he followed his partners.

"Probably Bat," Espo answered jokingly, smiling at his unusually quick wit and eliciting a chuckle from Ryan.

He thought, _'Castle would be the first to say how awesome that would be.'_ He sobered immediately upon nearing the entrance of the cavern.

* * *

Roy Montgomery felt the shift a few hours after he left the city. He immediately felt better for it, knowing that they had the backing of the universe. Whatever that meant at this time. Normally if the universe deigned to become involved it would at least guarantee more swift communication and direction, more so than a sole Aggregate member trying to unite the masses anyway would.

Besides when Rick tried it, that is.

Roy had discovered or perhaps it was merely a feeling of understanding through his conversations or communion or maybe it was an alliance, (because there could never be anything more direct), with the universe that Castle had, in fact, been on his own during the crisis: had communicated, organized and focused the Aggregate without the benefit of the universal modification or intercession. Montgomery breathed in a deep cleansing breath and considered how truly close they all came to the end and about the awe he felt toward his friend and the extent of his powers: it floored him and it would Castle, too.

The question was whether Castle was aware or not of the fact that he could, in all probability and like a hero from a storybook or one of his own books, vanquish the villain by himself.

Roy stopped the car at the next rest area. He went to the men's room, but found it was closed for repairs. A maintenance worker told him that someone had broken all the doors and locks and one of the spigots had been damaged. The man walked away muttering about the damn hooligans. Roy took advantage of the Royal Flush porta-potty, making a mental note to tell Castle about the name, and after took a seat on a frost covered picnic bench. He closed his eyes and after a few moments and a considerable effort concentrating on his friend, he found himself in the parking garage where he had met Castle's consciousness earlier that day. It was dark. Darker than he had ever seen it and a storm blew through the concrete supports and levels. More than anything else, Roy sensed he was totally alone.

"Damn it all to hell," he muttered as he stood, earning a condemnatory glare from a short, stout woman dressed in a frumpy gray overcoat walking toward the vending area. He smiled apologetically and offered a muffled, "Sorry, ma'am," tipping his hat, as he headed to his car. He'd have to try to communicate in a more conventional way.

* * *

' _How will you see it if you're only looking for and only open to practical explanations for it all?'_

Beckett repeated his words to herself. If the writing on the wall was to be believed, she and the boys were about to infiltrate a hostage situation, their weapons useless, no backup… _'stupid,'_ she assessed herself; she was getting facts confused.

"I don't like this, Beckett," Ryan whispered placing a hand on her forearm. "We don't know what we're walking in to. The message that Castle…"

"We don't know that Castle sent that," she said pointedly. "It could very well be a setup."

"Seriously, Kate? You saw it yourself," Espo stepped up. "What was written on the wall: hostages, at least a dozen unfriendlies, we're walking in without our weapons at the ready."

"I know Javi, I know. You're not saying anything I haven't thought about a hundred times since we saw that note."

"Alright, then," he nudged her quietly. He could see the worry on her face. They needed Beckett, not Castle's worried and perhaps reckless partner. "How about we take a minute and come up with a plan, instead of going in blind?"

Kate nodded and ran her hand through her hair, a ritual she'd seen Castle perform a few times. It gave him a minute to think or, more likely in his case, to apply a filter before speaking. He didn't do it enough, but she wasn't sure if it was because he didn't usually apply filters to his thoughts or because he never wanted to mess up his hair. The last part of her thought, she distinctly heard in his voice. She shut her eyes and his face appeared before her.

 _'Look, I just want you to be able to see the writing on the wall if you need to. Promise you'll try?'_

His prophetic words sent another chill down her spine. She wished she was wrapped in a Castle shaped blanket: the man radiated heat. "We need to get eyes in there, to see where they are holding the hostages and where the perps are positioned."

"Agreed," Espo nodded, "But what about the other stuff."

"I guess we'll need to assess that as well."

"So you finally believe us?"

"I'm not…I don't know one way or the other. Let's just see what we're dealing with, okay?"

The trio crept through the tunnel and as they went closer to the cavern, the ambient light grew brighter. All three pocketed their flashlights and began the well-used choreography of eye contact and hand gestures. They may not have known the layout they were walking into, but the approach and absolute knowledge that they had each other's back was second nature. It was their own kind of magic.

* * *

"Alright," Castle whispered. "You're right," he lied as he unblinkingly met his captor's dumbfounded gaze. "We can change the world, make it better. What is it that you need me to do?"

Stryker, his jaw slack, blinked at his hostage. He hadn't expected cooperation from the writer, not given everything he read and heard about the man; well, he hadn't expected it so readily. He had resigned himself to having to harm the man's daughter.

"Come on, Stryker, you must have a plan: some awesome display of power to sway the world to our way of thinking, or are you going to start off small…maybe Saranac, then the city, then the state? How long are we going to keep these people here: roughly half are Aggregate, right: a part of the higher existence. When does it become more equal for them? How about the hostages? Not Aggregate for sure, but when do they resume their lives and take their places in the new order…beneath?" Castle fired the questions at Stryker hoping to distract and confuse him. He had almost manipulated the steel of his manacles.

Stryker narrowed his eyes at Castle. "I have a plan," he said quietly. He whispered to an underling and he along with two others walked across the room.

Castle watched them go to the area where the bath-robed sycophants sat singing _Kumbaya_ or whatever it was they were doing when he'd first been brought in the cavern, hours ago. He felt the heat of the handcuffs on his wrists as he directed his concentration on them again once Stryker had left. It would leave a mark, but like the key, he didn't have time to be delicate or careful.

Stryker returned with the others carrying a glowing orb balanced on a litter. It was perfectly spherical and looked like it had an outer clear shell covering an inner, very active core. It reminded Castle of magma rivers and lakes he had seen when, against the advice of his mother; he'd paid an exorbitant fee to witness the spectacle first hand while on vacation in Hawaii. He emerged with memories of an experience that not many people could share and mild burns, like a sunburn on his skin. The difference was that the orb was mostly blue and green in color and apparently was experiencing eruptions beneath the shell.

He could feel it before he saw it and his breath caught. He knew what this was; he just believed it to be a myth. There was a good deal of background noise. The noise was more physical than audible. If he were to describe the sensation as sound, he'd say it was fingernails on a chalkboard or a fork on stoneware as he'd tortured his mother with before, only this was like a thousand forks. Promising himself never to subject her to that misery again, he tried not to squirm. The chills soon fell away and he began experiencing a feeling of bugs crawling over his limbs, as if his legs had fallen asleep. He surreptitiously inspected them to make sure there wasn't anything actually crawling on them; he shifted uncomfortably and regarded Stryker, ignoring the distracting formication as best as he could. Stryker seemed to be unaffected and likewise his underlings were unaffected and unaware of the phenomenon at all.

Castle shifted his gaze to the others in the hall. Most of the prisoners seemed unaffected as well, a few Aggregate turned or tilted their heads as if trying to lessen the sound as if it was a high-pitched whine, some batted away unseen creepy-crawlies, but then again even those who appeared to be affected just treated the sensation like a nuisance.

 _'Maybe I'm just imagining the sound and feeling. Finally going crazy, over the edge,'_ he thought. He quickly assessed the other hostages in the cavern again; other than the few people he'd seen react immediately, none were reacting, but then he saw Alexis, right in front of him. She hunched over her lap holding her elbows tightly against her ribs and her fists curled up over her ears. He wanted nothing more than to ease his daughter's discomfort and reached for her, but stopped. Distracted by movement, he looked over her head. A small smile made its way onto his lips. He breathed easier as he watched one of his partners steal out of the cavern.

"Alexis," he soothed. "Remember that unlikely and remarkably quiet place we visited?" He smiled. "It's okay; just remember how you felt there."

* * *

Esposito slunk back into the tunnel and pressed his back against the wall, squatting down. He let out a low slow breath and met his partners' eyes. They both sunk down to his level.

"Well?" Ryan asked impatiently. When they reached the opening to the vast cavern, together they determined that Espo could perform the reconnaissance the most quickly and efficiently of the three of them.

An annoyed expression flitted across Espo's face, but it softened when he reminded himself that they were all anxious and ready to rescue their wayward partner and his daughter, but apprehensive about the unknown quantities in the case. "Dude," he admonished. He sighed and then made his report. "I counted 28 people, uh hostages, including Castle and Alexis, uh…" He looked down.

"Espo?" Kate asked.

"They're all chained to plates in the floor, Kate. It doesn't look like anyone is hurt, except Castle—fat lip and cut on his cheek. Someone hit him," Espo assessed.

Ryan chuckled awkwardly, "Probably said something sarcastic."

"Yeah, probably: he's lucky it wasn't worse. He was just standing there with his eyes closed until three dudes brought a glowing ball over to him. Little Castle was sitting on the floor next to him, not close enough to reach each other, though."

"A glowing ball?"

"Yeah, it was weird: about the size of the silver balance ball in the precinct gym. You know the one?" Ryan and Beckett each nodded. "The closer the guys got to Castle the worse he got; he looked sick; like green sick, you know? And Alexis covered her ears, like something was loud, but I couldn't hear anything."

"How many are we up against?"

"Just like the note said: thirteen in the bathrobes and a dude in charge. Castle was right, the dude looks nuts."

* * *

The wave of nausea hit him unexpectedly and then was gone just as quickly and in its place an energization. _'Creepy blue glowing ball_ not _kryptonite: check,'_ he thought. Castle checked on Alexis who met his eyes, and apparently was feeling better as well; she nodded. He'd have to ask her about her reactions and how she felt after they were free and this place was far behind them. Maybe it was because of their proximity, maybe their familial connection; maybe, he thought hopefully, she had inherited some Aggregate traits after all.

Stryker was superciliously spouting off about the orb's properties and how lucky he was to have discovered it, that a lesser Aggregate would not have known what to do with it and how, under his direction, it would be used for their betterment, to advance and triumph: blah, blah, blah.

Somewhere in the back of Castle's brain he questioned why bad guys always gave long-winded speeches. It only provided the hero the time to act. As if on cue, he felt the metal around his wrists and ankles give way more than heard or saw it. The shackles remained around his limbs to give the appearance of his continued captivity, however, when the time was right, he'd be able to break free.

Rick called on all of his skills as a poker player, not to react to Stryker or give any indication of his freedom. "Luck has nothing to do with it Stryker," Castle said, breaking into the man's monotonous soliloquy. "How did you steal the karma?"

Stryker narrowed his eyes as if he could see through Castle's carefully maintained blank expression. "Richard, steal is such an unsavory word. I just found a way to tap in, like a piggy-back on your neighbor's cable service; it doesn't cost your neighbor anything: the only difference being that my neighbor includes the entire Aggregate."

"It _does_ make a difference, Benny," Castle added pointedly. "It affects them and how well they can use their gifts."

"Negligibly," Stryker dismissed with a wave of his hand. "If they were stronger and allowed to freely practice their art, they wouldn't rely on the well as much. _You_ don't," he said scornfully and turned from him.

"Stryker, what about the dead man found on the shore? He was gifted. Why did he die?"

Stryker frowned as he stared at Castle, annoyance in his eyes. "That was unfortunate, but Mr. Reinhardt chose not to cooperate. Not all gifted will understand or accept the new order just as Mr. Reinhardt," he said offhandedly. Castle would swear that the cavern became chillier with Stryker's portent. Stryker moved quickly and whispered darkly next to Castle's ear while reaching across and placing his hand on Alexis' shoulder, "What about you Mr. Castle? Do _you_ understand? Are _you_ going to cooperate?"

It took everything he had in him not to attack Stryker at that moment. Castle's skin crawled in the pall of the man's proximity and he looked again at the people around the room. He needed this guy to believe he would be compliant for a while longer. Swallowing his anger and fear for his daughter, Castle stared at Alexis and nodded.

* * *

She was afraid. Afraid that she or the others would be hurt, afraid that something would happen to her dad, she had seen him stick his foot in his mouth or butt-in where he shouldn't on more than one occasion, once or twice she would have sworn that it had been on purpose just to observe the reactions of the people he offended. He'd already been punched once because of his response to Stryker.

She was afraid of the Aggregate and the power at the members' command. On some unnamed and ignored level, she was afraid of her father's powers: the gifts, as he called them. She had only observed the little things he sometimes did at home, laundry, making coffee or she would never forget going down to the kitchen and witnessing the New York Times crossword fill itself in while he was on the phone in his office.

She thought of herself as intelligent, logical and reasonable, however, she needed (almost compulsively), an existence in which she could understand and explain, not one where orange juice poured itself into a glass or ping pong balls bounced _up_ the stairs (just to see if he could keep them in a straight line). She knew he tried to keep that part of his being from her, that the incidences had happened when he didn't know she would witness them. Accidents: she knew from the bottom of her heart that he would never do anything knowingly to distress her.

Recently, she also realized that it was selfish of her to require him to hide his talents because they freaked her out. If she did not enjoy reading mysteries or thrillers, would she have asked him not to write them?

Maybe it was time to embrace all of her dad and all of his talents. Instead of hiding her head in the sand, she should learn about his gifts. She'd noticed things recently. Vicissitudes she'd discovered at the loft, mostly in his office, almost as if a blindfold had been removed or she'd been given a back-stage pass and she could now see how the magician performed his tricks. On the few occasions they'd spoken about his gifts when her curiosity got the better of her fears, her father had always been adamant that it was not magic. He explained that it was a manipulation of the physical world, (physics, he told her, beyond that which was taught at her school or, indeed, any of the best schools anywhere), but he also had other talents he kept well-hidden out of fear of distressing her further. The journey into his mind earlier, for example. Alexis had been giving the subject some thought lately. She would be eighteen in a few months, almost out of school and she had decided that she would be brave and learn to accept him just before she was kidnapped from Southampton Beach.

Alexis watched her father interact with Stryker; she listened as he agreed with him: trusted that he did so only because of the man's threats against her. Her dad did sound like he truly believed what Stryker was saying; that he believed in Stryker's vision of a utopian social order, his caste society based on whether a person had gifts like her dad or not, like her. She stared at them, uncertain. She would be considered second class in that system, forced to serve under her dad or worse, away from him. Alexis watched him as he interacted with their captor. Her dad glanced her way, even though he continued in deep discussion with Stryker, making brief but loving eye contact with her, as he always did. A serenity surrounded her as faith enveloped her heart: the father that raised her would never condone the type of society Stryker was proposing, she was sure of it.

Alexis shut her eyes and determined to recapture the calm her dad had asked her to in his mind. She no longer heard the cacophony or felt the pins and needles that had assaulted her when they brought the glowing globe nearer so she figured it would be easier.

She emptied her mind and concentrated on being free and hugging her dad. Her eyes widened and she let out a little squeak when she felt the handcuffs loosen around her wrists.


	11. Master Manipulator

_A/N - Hey Everyone!_

 _I'm back again, as promised. Thanks for letting me know you are still enjoying the story. Thanks for reading, the follows and favorites, and for all the kind words._

 _Now: Please keep your arms and legs inside the ride at all times._

 _Enjoy!_

 _~GeekMom_

* * *

 **The Possibility of Magic**

 **Chapter 11**

 **Master Manipulator**

* * *

Beckett waved the boys into position and she did the same. They had decided that a stealth approach would be best, considering that they were outnumbered and, if Castle's note was to be believed, their weapons would be useless or taken, not to mention the forces that may or may not be playing a part.

She saw her partner in the center of the cavern, Alexis near to him. The girl, she recognized, was putting up a brave front. Castle appeared to be deep in conversation with a man. The man straightened up, unencumbered, she noticed, and Beckett stopped. Recognition dawned on her face: he had been a material witness in another case: the one where Castle tried his best to convince her that aliens were behind the woman's death. The man had seemed harmless pertaining to their case, if not blameless in praying on the publics' insecurities. It seemed that Benny Stryker was not so harmless, after all.

* * *

A wave of anticipation fell over him; he felt a shift in the universe, a calmness that invaded the cavern. He couldn't stop the small smile. Like a lot of details, thankfully went unnoticed by Stryker, both his smile and the reason behind it or maybe he was just a better poker player than Castle gave him credit.

Castle would continue as if he didn't know that the universe had chosen sides. He felt warmed, renewed, knowing Montgomery came through. For all his friend had put him through, most of it unwittingly of course; Roy had spent his gifted life skating under the radar and was somewhat naïve regarding the universe. He still came through in the end. Just like with the bomb, Castle felt supported and more confident.

"So, _partner_ ," Castle called, boldly. "How about telling me and these other _fine_ Aggregate," he paused and sneered, "and their servants," he paused again making eye contact with Alexis. He hoped she understood the part he was being forced to play. He swallowed and resumed his loud question, "What is it that we are supposed to be doing?"

"The alignment doesn't happen for another hour," Stryker sighed, exasperated by Castle's appalling lack of knowledge. "In a few moments' time," he explained as if he was speaking to a child, "We will begin the process that will enable me to harness the true power of the Aggregate and demonstrate that I am a force to reckon with, not one that will be hiding in the shadows."

"Me and I," Castle muttered as he smiled what he hoped was a passable crocodilian smile. There was the confirmation of the man's true objectives as clear as if he'd asked for it.

"What?"

"Um…demonstrate to whom?"

"Why," Stryker grinned, "the whole world of course."

Checking his watch again, Stryker spoke a few words to his number one bathrobe guy and he and the others dispersed around the hall; one robed minion to a hostage/Aggregate pair. To Castle's surprise, Stryker stationed himself between Castle and Alexis, the orb, now set securely on a base, between him and Castle.

Time seemed to stop along with any breathing in the dome. All the gifted and their loved ones had murmured words of love and hope to each other and now collectively held their breath. Castle kept his eyes primarily focused on Stryker, but could see and sense Alexis' fear. He wished he could communicate that he'd seen Esposito enter the cavern, just to reassure her. He couldn't risk it without compromise. Not yet.

* * *

Beckett held her fist up to Ryan and Esposito, who both stopped immediately. Something was happening: it had become eerily quiet in the chamber: no noise, no movement. She craned her neck to get another glimpse of her partner. He was staring at the man.

Stryker's voice broke the silence. "You all know what you've been brought here to do." Castle looked at the other Aggregates' faces. He couldn't decide if their trance-like countenances or their uncanny nodding in unison was more disturbing. He could appreciate why people remarked about his and Kate's synchronicity. Each robed member was chanting silently, head down, eyes closed. Castle tentatively started to raise his hand. "You all know the rewards you will reap because you have been chosen to be here during this transition." Stryker paused and his appearance and tenor of his voice became more menacing. "You also know the consequences of non-compliance." All heads nodded again. Castle raised his arm higher and waved it at Stryker. "What is it?" the man snapped impatiently.

"You haven't told me what I'm supposed to do," Castle supplied sheepishly. "And…and I don't know the consequences." _'Although,'_ Castle thought as his eyes darted to his daughter. _'I can guess.'_

Stryker sighed and turned to Castle. He leaned close to the writer intimidatingly. "You really aren't as bright as your press makes you out to be," he whispered.

"My press?" Castle squeaked. "I pay my agent a lot of money for my image, but no you're right, I'm _nothing_ like my press."

"So very disappointing," Stryker sighed. He checked his watch and when he turned back to Castle, he leaned in close and said, "Empty your mind."

"Wha…what?"

"You obviously can't be trusted to concentrate on the alignment by yourself, you're just a sycophant like all the others, so I will use you a conduit like the others. Your daughter will pay the consequences for your disobedience, if you don't do as I say."

"A…" Castle swallowed and felt Alexis' fearful gaze on his back. He changed his tone of voice, pleading, "Just tell me what you need, Stryker. I promise I'll get it right."

"I've no more time to waste," Stryker complained, checking his watch again.

"Look, you specifically wanted _me_ to take part in this," he countered, drawing a sharp look from his captor. Castle held his palms up to him, a physical act of surrender and with the clanking of his chains, he reminded him that he was still Stryker's prisoner. "Is there anyone else that you know of, that can do what I did yesterday? Here I am partner and I am ready to do what I need to, whatever you want me to," Castle implored, hoping he had prostrated himself enough not to threaten Stryker, but at the same time, not come off as so much of an idiot that it rendered him useless to him either. He gazed at him sincerely and honestly, as if he was holding a seven and two, off suit in the hole, but in reality had a pair of pocket rockets. It was the most important hand of poker in his life.

Stryker looked Castle over again. He didn't trust him: he'd jumped on board far more quickly than Stryker predicted. That and Stryker was having difficulty reading the man and his daughter. He could see their auras, but Stryker could discern most people's true intentions. Castle's intentions were blank. The writer might have been playing him. He'd have to keep him on a short leash because he was correct about one thing, the alignment would be more precise with his talents and afterward, the rest of the Aggregate would comply simply because Castle was a willing part of the new order. He was after all, a celebrity, both within and outside of the Aggregate.

"Fine: sit as if you were going to communicate," he barked. As Castle complied unreservedly, Stryker scornfully added, "You do that, right? Telepathy?"

Castle nodded but clarified, "Well, yeah, but I'm not…it's not one of my best…I'm not very good at it," he lied.

Both Castle and Stryker sat on opposite sides of the orb. Castle duplicated Stryker's placement of his hands. As his palms edged nearer to the orb, Castle felt the same dissonance he'd felt earlier; sounds and feelings tumbling together creating an intense, swirling miasma, just like the feelings when he got within the proximity of the Lake, only more intense. He pulled his hands back instinctively and protectively. He regarded Alexis and the others, smiled at his daughter, closed his eyes and concentrated as he made contact with the orb.

His mind and heart were instantly assaulted with thousands of voices: some were crying out, some singing, some were, although most were not, joyous; it was more like a dirge. Some of the voices were in obvious pain, while others laughed. He instinctively began to sort through the noise, calming the voices as he went, soothing those afraid or suffering. It occurred to him that that was exactly why Stryker wanted him: to wade through the well, focus and direct the energy. He'd do that: he'd focus and direct, but he'd also sooth. Castle was a people person. And if the mythology were to be believed, the orb contained the essences of Aggregate member's gifts: a well, not unlike the karmic well only containing abilities, not based upon golden rule deeds. He'd help as best as he could. He understood Stryker's end game now. He was there to help him access the orb's power. He'd access it, maybe not exactly how Stryker wanted, but if Castle's assessment turned out to be right; Stryker wouldn't even know what he was doing.

* * *

Beckett, Esposito and Ryan watched their partner sit and place his hands on the glowing orb. The effect was instantaneous. As soon as his palms hit the surface, Castle's body became rigid and his face became pained, but determined.

"Castle," Beckett whispered and automatically started toward him.

Esposito grabbed her arm and Ryan held her shoulder.

"We won't be able to help him if they discover us," Espo whispered.

Beckett swallowed and nodded. Her partners released her. They would wait and watch.

* * *

Castle knew the boys were close by, but he felt Kate's presence, just as surely as if she were holding his hand. It warmed him. The feeling of her near him beamed like a lighthouse in a storm, calming and guiding him. In fact, she wasn't aware she was projecting it. Maybe it was his connection with the orb. Although he could make pretty good guesses about her mood and feelings, the orb focused his perspicacity. The orb was powerful, too powerful: it scared him as much as he admired it. Even with his eyes closed, he could sense the physical representation of the thoughts, feelings, abilities and energy of eons of the gifted. The orb was distracting and loud while its colored patterns swirled and morphed, unconcerned with clashing, jarring hues. ' _Almost as if someone had bottled up my mother,'_ the thought flew to the forefront of his mind and unable to suppress it completely; he chuckled. The image of his mother warmed his heart. They shared an odd relationship: bits of wit and sarcasm thrust and parried over a lifetime of verbal fencing matches, but always wielded on rapiers of love. Rick had never doubted that his mother loved him and he hoped with all of his heart that he had passed that legacy on to Alexis. Alexis: the next thought that slammed into the back of his forehead, taking his breath with it, was what their places would be in the utopian society Stryker envisioned.

Stryker had to be stopped. Castle first impulse was to withdraw further from the orb, but stopped: it was still possible that Stryker could know if he stopped working with him altogether, so he concentrated on stirring up the essences within the orb. He would be continuing his participation even though it disgusted him, but also throwing an effective smokescreen over his other activities. Castle banked on the assumptions that Stryker wasn't strong enough to control the orb on his own, had underestimated Castle's abilities and, more importantly didn't realize that Castle could focus his talents in many directions.

"That's it, Mr. Castle. Show them, calm them, and focus them." Stryker's voice sounded strained as if his own concentration had been taxed by the alignment, not augmented as he had postulated. Castle was surprised that Stryker was still able to speak. He inhaled deeply and like a master conductor, he directed the power within the orb. Stryker gasped and Castle felt him push back, but was quickly distracted by other impetuses within the swirling.

Confident, Stryker was at least distracted, he put more energy toward freeing the others and moments later he grinned inwardly, hearing the barely noticeable exclamations and gasps as handcuffs were split and stretched as he had done with his own. That finished, he worked on providing his partners with cover.

* * *

Ryan peered into the cavern, watching Castle and their perp, but the others as well. The robed men and women looked like low-paid security for a band that could only get bookings at teen-ager birthday parties and third-rate franchised restaurant openings. Some were paying attention, but most were dazed, almost as if they'd been drugged.

"Something's happening. I don't know if it has to do with what Castle and the other guy are doing or what, but the hostages are less trance-like and more animated. They're looking around at each other." He looked from one of his partners to the next. "What do you want to do?"

Beckett inhaled before she spoke. "We wait for his signal, just like his note said."

Ryan raised his palm, but then just covered his mouth. "Um…," he began, but ended with, "never mind," when Beckett raised a challenging eyebrow at him. He muttered, "Read," to himself.

The cavern behind them darkened suddenly, instantly sobering their moods.

* * *

Even though he didn't know exactly where the light sources were, it was easy enough to douse them. He did however, arouse the suspicion of the guards, who suddenly became colder, and opened their eyes realizing they had been disrobed, literally. Castle, who couldn't resist a little insult to indignity, simply moved the robes from the guards to the lamps: easy, like sorting his laundry. The thing that made the switch complicated was removing the cuffs from the hostages and binding the guards before they could react. Stryker, for his part, was oblivious of the havoc his theoretical partner was causing, thankfully. It seemed that the orb's power, influence, or perhaps his interference had all of his senses occupied: that and the fact that Castle, while directing the orb's noise, had routed it so Stryker would feel it, indeed, be inundated by it, but he'd put a kind of block on it to keep Stryker from accessing the power contained therein. He'd created a one-way conduit. He would have to remember to brag about it to Alexis who, after his last trip to the ER for electrical burns, declared _'that he just didn't understand currents and should never be allowed around anything electrical.'  
_

 _'Booyah,'_ he celebrated silently.

* * *

Beckett and the boys wasted no time entering the cavern when the lights went out. Even in the dim residual glow, she could see that it was chaos. The guards, save the one nearest Castle, whom she assumed was the leader, had been subdued. The hostages were free and standing in a huddle by the farthest wall. The oddest sight though was that Castle was still engaged with the glowing ball. Maybe it was the low light emanating from the ball, but he looked exhausted. His hair matted to his forehead and sweat stained his shirt. The three moved silently toward the former hostages. "Is everyone alright?" she whispered and received a multitude of tired, but simultaneous head nods.

Esposito grimaced and leaned toward Ryan and whispered, "That's weirder than Castle and Beckett's thing."

Ryan agreed as they reached the crowd. "Alexis? Are you alright?"

Alexis stepped forward and nodded. "I'm fine, please, you have to help him," she said as she pointed toward her father.

Beckett smiled: just as Castle's main concern was his daughter, his daughter's first priority would always be her father. "We've got his back, Alexis, don't worry. Will you help Detective Ryan get these people out of here?" The girl nodded and with a last look at her father, started rounding up the group. She herded them toward the tunnel, bringing up the rear.

Once Castle is assured that his partners had the evacuation of the hostages underway, he recalled all of his energy and focused on breaking the nearly codependent pull the orb held on him. He felt it begin syphoning his energy as soon as he touched it. He held it at bay while he took care of the others, but it had doubled its efforts and Castle felt like if he didn't break away then, he'd be dragged into a whirlpool unable to swim to safety. Wrenching his glowing fingertips away, he grunted and then fell backwards to the floor.

Alexis looked back over her shoulder at her dad just as he broke the connection with the ball. He collapsed and she started toward him, only to be caught by Ryan. He squeezed her hand.

"Alexis," he soothed, "Beckett and Esposito will take care of him. Come on," he held the girl tightly and pulled her toward the tunnel.

Beckett caught Castle's body a second later, and with Espo's help dragged him away from the ball. He knelt behind him, helping him to sit up. "Castle?"

"I'm…" he began. "I'm okay." He wiped the sheen of sweat from his upper lip and gathering strength, began to stand up. Bereft of energy and breath, he made it to one knee before he had to stop and rest again.

Esposito frowned and put his hand on his friend's shoulder. "Man, you need to stay down."

"Stryker…" he wheezed, gulping in air as if he had run the New York City Marathon. "Needs to break away," he whispered. "They'll kill him."

Stryker hit his cue expertly as if he'd been the star student at the Martha Rodger's School of Acting and began to wail in pain. Esposito jumped behind Stryker, and got leverage under his arms before he pulled however Stryker remained firmly planted on the smooth, stone floor. "He's…not…budging," he grunted as he released him. Espo, frowning, inspected his fingers, which had begun tingling, like they'd fallen asleep. He rubbed them on his jeans.

"Help me up," Castle asked. "Aw, hell," Castle spat as he stood, hanging onto Esposito and Beckett's arms, wobbling uncertainly on legs made of jello. He closed his eyes as he held on to steady himself, breathing deeply. When he let go and opened his eyes, he was back and, without question, in control. "Javi, Kate: you need to get the rest of the people out of here. Whatever control he had over this in the first place, which wasn't much, he's lost. The orb is drawing energy from the minerals and structures and the alignment. The whole place could come down."

Beckett looked up. "Down? Isn't the lake…"

"Yeah, it's right above us. Now go. The handcuffs on his followers should come off if you twist and tug a bit. I didn't have time to re-weld them properly. They're just for show, like a magician's or," he wiggled his eyebrows, "breakaway sex cuffs. " He turned to Espo, imploring him to get Kate out of the cavern. "There's an access tunnel. It's not as far back as the theater. They'll need both hands to climb the ladder."

"Castle, no, we can't just leave you here," Beckett protested.

"Kate, you can't help me to what I have to do, but you can help them." He squeezed her hands. "I need you to get Alexis clear." He sighed. "Kate, please? I'm not sure what's going to…but…I've got certain skills that you…"

Espo nodded, "Montgomery told us. You…you're some kind of magician?"

Castle sighed and rolled his eyes. "It's not magic…" He stopped and focused himself. "Look, I'll explain it all to you later, but right now…" He waited the half a beat before she looked at him. "Sweetheart," he emphasized as his eyes met hers earnestly, "I need you to trust me and get those people to safety."

She nodded, "Okay," and she turned away.

"Kate?" When she turned back, he added, "I'm going to need you to help me find my mojo again," with a crooked and suggestive smile.

"Castle…"

"It's okay: I'll see you later, Beckett, I promise. Now go."

She reluctantly followed Esposito to the tunnel's entrance along with the nearly naked henchmen. She looked back once more to see Castle standing by Stryker and the orb, his face twisted in effort, his hands hovering above him as he planted his feet and lifted.


	12. There's No Upside

_A/N - Hi!_

 _Another chapter on our way home. Montgomery's line from 'Wrapped Up In Death', which I chose to use as this chapter's title was the inspiration for this story._

 _Enjoy!_

 _~GeekMom_

* * *

 **The Possibility of Magic**

 **Chapter 12**

 **There's No Upside in Screwing with Things that You Can't Explain**

* * *

Castle considered Stryker. The man's hands were indistinguishable from the orb and his arms had begun to glow with the same multi-colored patterns. It was drawing him in; assimilating him or more precisely, they were. Castle looked at his own tingling fingers and saw the same patterns. "Son of a bitch," he yelled. "You can't have him," he yelled to no one who would listen. "This has got to stop. You can't just arbitrarily rule a death sentence on someone, no matter what's he's done." He knew his shouts and protests only reached as high as the cavern walls. The universe didn't communicate openly and willingly in the best of times and Castle didn't have time to sit for a telepathic chat.

He dedicated what energy he could to lifting the man and the orb. When he'd moved objects in the past, he'd been able to concentrate. Undeniably, concentration, no matter how hard he tried, was proving to be elusive; his mind was spinning like a roulette wheel, each slot painted with worries. He kept at it though and once he felt the slightest movement, he grabbed Stryker under the armpits and dragged him toward the tunnel. He moved like he was pushing and pulling a heavy furniture trolley: the kind with three great casters and one that wants to go in every other direction but yours.

"Shit, come on Benny: help me out man," he implored the third time he steered the man into a wall. He could suspend gravity or levitate a bottle or glass or any number of smaller items or just use its intrinsic energy to fling the object where he wanted it to go, but he'd never done it with anything much larger, certainly not a man attached to a cumbersome glowing ball that seemed to be channeling all of the available psychic energy from the source.

He found that the Aggregate's orb was freakishly heavy, which didn't make sense to him. After all, it was the essence of gifts and abilities; remnants, wisps of soul: really, how much could that weigh? He'd made little actual progress across the cavern when he felt the first drop hit his face. Glancing up as he heaved the deadweight, he did a double take and stared, momentarily frozen as fissures marred the great dome, spreading like spider webs.

"Shit," he reiterated, getting wetter by the second. Stopping to try and lighten the load, he tried beating the orb with rocks and anything else that wasn't attached to the cavern walls and floor without success. The glow had made its way up to Stryker's neck and down his torso, by the time Castle had gotten him to the tunnel entrance. He looked down and noticed that the man's eyelids had completely morphed and all that was left were two glowing miasmic eyes. He gingerly felt for a pulse, calming himself and concentrating over the rush of the steady rivulets of water. He just needed to hear, but then a crash reverberated throughout the cavern and he watched as if in slow motion as a torrent of water rushed down, inundating and overtaking everything in the cavern.

* * *

Beckett was the last to climb the rickety wooden ladder out of a worn, storm cellar door located outside of Saranac's general store, a quarter of the way around the lake from the theater. Ryan had been right about an alternate exit and he, along with Alexis, had the hostages out of the tunnel in short order. Kate lost her balance as the ground rumbled and then they all heard a loud booming crack as if lightning had struck close by, but there was no storm, no lightning.

"Oh God, Beckett," Ryan said as they watched the water in the lake slowly recede, the muddied shore growing larger by the second.

* * *

The water pushed and tossed and slammed, unforgiving and unrelenting, knocking Castle and the albatrosses of Stryker and the orb into walls, boulders and the ruins of man-made items brought there by Aggregate members. Fighting to keep himself and Stryker above water, he held onto into the cavern walls, scratching and clawing at any protrusion to help keep him up and making progress toward the tunnel.

The tunnel's gaping doorway reminded him of the drain in the bottom of a toilet. All the water was rushing that way. Eventually, after surviving the heavy-duty wash cycle, they were thrust through the tunnel opening, their bodies were further pummeled against the stalactites and stalagmites that lined the passage's corridor, snagging their clothing in the actual monster's maw it had become, greedily clutching their garments in its rough fingers and imagined teeth and when the fabric was gone, the beast settled for flesh.

Every time his head surfaced, he breathed in greedily thinking it was probably his last. He also made sure that Stryker's head surfaced as well, not knowing if he was still alive or not. Accidentally, he found a ledge that had not yet been immersed and hauled Stryker's limp body onto it before scrabbling up himself. The orb had been crushed in the inundation or the beatings both he and Stryker had taken in the rushing water and it lay dead, but had already absorbed Stryker's hands and arms up to his elbows. It was a part of him like some cosmic hand muff. The tunnel walls weren't very forgiving. The water was still below his makeshift perch and he had a moment to assess his situation. There was a reason he stayed away from open oceans, he had a dreadful fear of tsunamis, an irrational anxiety born of his book research. It was the unexpectedness of the calamity, the helplessness. There was no preparing, just reacting, much like the current circumstances. Calming himself, he watched the water and how quickly it was rising. He was out of time.

"I don't have as much time as you do, Benny, but I've got time enough for this," he said to Stryker's motionless form. Castle shut his eyes and pushed the fear way down into the deepest darkest corner of his mind he could find. The fear would get in the way.

* * *

Esposito, Ryan and Beckett had regrouped on the grassy bank near a rapidly grounding rowboat.

Ryan shouted, "Ow!" and rubbed the back of his head.

"What?" his partners asked together.

"Someone just pelted me with a rock or something," Ryan turned to see who threw the rock.

Looking back over Ryan's shoulder, Espo's eyes widened. "Shit, get down!" he yelled as he dragged his partners to the lawn. Kate, lying on her back, watched as pebbles and rocks flew over their heads to the boardwalk surrounding the lake.

"Detectives!" someone shouted and pointed at the worn boards.

Beckett stared, her two parts of her mind still warring between disbelief and wanting to believe that it was he, because if it was, he was alive. The battle raged between the two distinct and different parts of her mind, the part she'd grown up with: logical, evidence based; the one she nurtured through tragedy and honed with her strength, the same mind which built and fostered the wall extended around her heart pitted against the part she'd discovered only in the last few hours, the part of her mind that Castle unearthed, hidden behind the carefully laid mortar and brickwork, it's the part that still believes, the one that can see the fairies, the magic and all the possibilities.

' _In the tunnel. Cut off. Working to get out. Tell Alexis, I love her and it'll be okay.'_ His carefully created message, pieced together from pebbles and stones from the recently uncovered lakebed was short, too short. She wanted to know if he was all right. She wanted him there, safe and whole.

Beckett paced back and forth. _'Cut off.'_ What did that mean, exactly? Was he somewhere the water had cut off all possible exits? She could feel her panic rising.

Kate spun on her partners. "There has to be some way we can help him," she shot. In response to their blank faces and feelings of powerlessness and her own impotence, she decisively stated, "I'm going back down." The declaration had Esposito and Ryan standing and holding her still, all three peering at the rapidly draining lake. It took both of them to hold her back.

Ryan spoke loudly. "Come on, Beckett, you know that that won't help."

"Yeah," Espo agreed, "even though it sucks, we just need to wait."

Inhaling deeply and nodding tentatively, she shrugged out of their restraint. "See if you can call anybody and get these people taken care of." Kate looked at their charges: the hostages were huddled together, half of them waiting, wearing nervous expressions and twiddling thumbs, hair, sticks, or anything to calm themselves down. The exception was Alexis who sat hugging her legs, her head jammed into her knees, tightly holding on. She lifted her head as if she could tell Beckett was watching her.

The other half of the people were sitting together, their hands joined, and eyes closed, the expressions on their faces were deep and deliberate as if in communal prayer. "What's going on?" she asked as she nodded in the former hostages' direction situated by the steps and porch of the general store.

Ryan cast a sidelong glance. "Oh, one of the women said that her husband and the other people here who have Castle's…um…abilities? Well, they are trying to rescue him. Apparently, they're more powerful when they work together."

Kate couldn't argue and truthfully didn't want to. She wanted to believe: maybe they could help her partner.

* * *

Opening his eyes, Castle frowned as he realized that the water hadn't risen at all. Not that he wasn't grateful; nevertheless he had thoroughly expected it to be much higher. He hadn't had enough strength to hold back the water and send the message. At that time, the message was more important and felt fortunate to have had the time to send it. He hoped it had been seen. He frowned for another moment trying to puzzle out the water mystery before deciding to take the win: maybe there was a deeper tunnel where the water was draining. Shivering in the cold draft of the tunnel, he dropped off the edge of the niche in the rock he'd used as a safe harbor and began swimming in the icy water, leaving Stryker's body and the orb, both of which resembled hollowed-out, burnt marshmallows, on the ledge. It made his stomach turn, not only because of the mass of charred, wet, grotesque mass of flesh that was left of the man: granted, that was Stryker's own fault by messing with things he didn't fully understand. But it was more so the fact that the universe, in its harsh, obdurate fashion, delivered its judgment: it had been swift, inflexible and final and he hadn't been able to dissuade the verdict.

* * *

"You left him there!" Alexis accused. "You _said_ you had his back." The girl dropped to her knees on the muddy shoreline, staring in disbelief at the cracks and holes dotting the concave lake floor, nothing but bleak darkness leaking up from below.

Kate followed her gaze. The cracks mirrored Kate's fissures in her heart and in her confidence. "Alexis, he made me…"

"Since when has he ever made _you_ do anything?" she sharply countered.

"Hey little Castle, hold up, now," Espo mediated. "The three of us are kind of out of our league here. You recognize that, right. And you've got to know that your dad's better qualified to handle the mumbo jumbo going on around here…you see that, right?" He squatted and placed an arm around the girl's shoulders.

Alexis glared at the detective sideways through her red tresses. Esposito lifted his hands in capitulation, stood and backed away, joining Beckett on the grass. She had only just begun to come to terms with her father's gifts. She was not able or willing to give them more credence than merely acknowledgement. If she had been able to see beyond her grief and worry, she would have recognized her need to blame someone. Anyone, her dad or his gifts bore the brunt of her wrath more times than not, but the trio in front of her would do. Alexis had always reacted badly to her fears; she knew that about herself, but it was easier to lash out at the detectives, the people she deemed responsible for all the danger he so openly embraced than to remain calm and wait for the outcome.

"Excuse me?" The trio turned to see a plain, middle-aged woman: the same woman who had noticed the message dotting the boardwalk. The telltale pink rings around her wrists identified her as one of the former hostages. There was a quality about her, a lightness of her spirit and by the way she carried herself, but also actual light: she appeared to be glowing. Alexis thought she might have rubbed against some bioluminescent substance underground. Other than that, she was unremarkable, except for the kindness and love emanating from her very pores, the understanding, patience and humor easily read in her eyes. Beckett had known women like her when she was growing up: she was everyone's favorite mom: the mom who would sneak you Snickers Bars instead of fruit snacks. Beckett was drawn to the kindness and gentleness of spirit while Espo hoped for cookies. Like his abuela, she just looked like she should have cookies with her at all times. Alexis stood, however, remained wary.

Beckett stepped back to face the woman. "Are you alright? Do you need help?"

She smiled warmly. "No, but you three do."

"Ma'am?" Esposito questioned.

She reached for Alexis' hands and engulfed the teen's trembling fingers in her warm, soft, confident ones. "He's okay," she whispered.

"What? How do you know that? Who are you, even?"

"Alexis," Esposito spoke sharply, a verbal slap to stop her panic. "The mumbo jumbo stuff," he tilted his head sideways toward the woman and raised his eyebrow.

The woman raised her own eyebrow, as one would indulge a child. "My name is Dorothy Walker, but my friends all call me Dodie. Like your daddy, Miss Castle, I have gifts…" she looked down, suddenly self-conscious and then back up challenging Esposito with a mischievous twinkle in her brown eyes and a quirk of her lips. "You know…the _mumbo jumbo_ stuff?" She turned back to Alexis and explained, "Well, not exactly like your dad. I don't think there's one of us here that can do what he can," she expounded quietly, her tone warmed with awe. "He's remarkable and so nice. Got a blue aura, it is royal blue with tinges of silver," she said with admiration. "It's deeper than your blotchy blue and gray, but I can see where you're related."

Alexis stood up straighter and inspected her clothing, looking for signs of the aura as if it was dribbled down the front of her shirt like her school cafeteria's sloppy joe lunch special.

She squeezed Alexis hand again. "You need to relax, child. It's okay to let go," she soothed. Alexis exhaled and reflexively drew strength from Dodie's touch and warm manner. Dodie smiled, "That's right, Honey. More light blue, like your eyes."

"I'm sorry," Beckett huffed, "but how do you know that Castle is okay?"

"Oh, my dear," she placed her hand on Beckett's forearm and squeezed. "We can feel him," she whispered, but not to keep it a secret, not with what everyone had so recently survived. There was no need for that. No the whisper was one of reverence. "He's a powerful presence," she smiled and nodded, reassuringly. "He's tired," she grinned, "and kind of annoyed, but he's okay." She dropped her gaze and studied her bright acid green crocs again. "I just didn't want you to worry," she said as she leaned toward them. One more squeeze of Kate's arm and Alexis' fingers and she was gone, back to the group of survivors, who now all had their conjoined hands stretched out above them.

Ryan rejoined his partners and his partner's daughter, watching Dodie return to the crowd. He walked into Esposito's back of because of his fascination of the Aggregate members' communing.

"Dude," Espo huffed as he straightened back up.

"Oh, sorry, Javi," Ryan said as he brushed off the imaginary debris from Espo's shoulders and back. Esposito shrugged out from under his ministrations. "So, they are all working to help Castle. One of the family members told me." He pointed to a young woman about Alexis' age. He waved awkwardly when she caught him looking her way.

Kate bit her bottom lip. "I have to go back down there, guys." She paced, spun and paced again before running her hand through her hair and growling, "I can't trust…this…well that whatever _this_ actually is, is really going to help."

Ryan started shaking his head. "Look, as much as you know we both want to mount a search and rescue, we can't just leave them, Beckett. We're the only authority here, right now."

"Yeah, Kevin's right: we've got the victims _plus_ the prisoners," Espo indicated the wet, nearly naked men and women huddled together throwing disdainful looks at the rest of the survivors.

"Besides, how much do you think we can affect whatever this is?"

"I don't know, Kevin, but I know I have to do something."

"Maybe I can help," a familiar voice called as he came around the general store.


	13. Suspension of Disbelief

_A/N - Hey wonderful readers!_

 _Shorter chapter than I usually offer, but it was a good place to stop. Thanks for the fantastic comments, the follows and for reading._

 _I'll post the final chapter tomorrow, followed by an epilogue on Saturday. If you're looking for something to pass the time, try Perspex13's Running Water. Awesome writing and storytelling._

 _~Enjoy!_

 _~GeekMom_

* * *

 **The Possibility of Magic**

 **Chapter 13**

 **Suspension of Disbelief**

He was grateful, truly. He hadn't drowned, he wasn't lying face down in a puddle of his own blood and or vomit nor was he pummeled so hard against the walls that he would be considered postmodern cave art discovered in an as yet to come millennia. He hadn't become the love child between the Aggregate and the universe as Stryker had, but it would be a long time before he toasted marshmallows again. He wasn't injured—okay, that one wasn't true, but it could have been worse. He had suffered abrasions, lacerations, bruises, he was certain that he had increased the number of bones in his body to somewhere around two hundred and ten and to top it off or bottom it out, he had a blistering case of chafing between his legs. Blue jeans did not make the most comfortable or practical swimsuit.

He also felt more than a share of onus toward Mother Nature, who in her infinite wisdom made sure that the lake water was freezing. His balls had escaped the intense soreness that was now his inner thighs and ass. They had the good sense to retreat within his body for shelter, (he was convinced they were the _only_ sensible part of his body left). Still, in the ice fishing worthy water, he was thankful for the clothing no matter how much it chafed; what was left of it that was, his clothes had been torn and shredded as he was forced through the tunnel of stalactites and stalagmites. He never really noticed, when taken together, how much the formations resembled teeth in some horrific, night-mar-ish monster's mouth until he had become the tunnel creature's martini olive. He wouldn't have minded if the water was indeed gin or vodka as long as he kept swimming and never saw the monster's uvula.

Actually, he hadn't swum for several moments; the water had become too shallow, consequently he sloughed through the hip deep freezing water toward the theater. He'd been carried too far past the access tunnel to climb the ladder by Mister Chung Wang's general store.

Stopping to catch the breath the cold and wet atmosphere in the cave was steadily pilfering, he turned just as he heard a terrifying rumble followed by the unmistakable sound of rushing water colliding with rock. "Shit," he said, loud enough to echo above the crashing chaos behind him. He ran through the water as quickly as he could, which was to say with graceless, fruitless brevity and sloth-like qualities. A moment later, exhausted from his effort, he felt new waves of cold, unforgiving lake water crash against his back and swallow his body lifting him up from the tunnel floor, spinning him about and dropping him only to rise with the next crash. _'Well,'_ he thought, _'if I am an olive at least I'm being shaken, not stirred.'_

* * *

"Captain?" Beckett spun around at the sound of his voice. She hadn't expected him or the entourage of state troopers and first responders he brought with him. Fire and rescue immediately began triaging the injured, the troopers took the group of handcuffed men and women into their custody and Montgomery informally assessed his detectives.

"Detectives," he greeted, relieved to see them. Glancing around the area, he took note of the many bedraggled survivors, both victims and perpetrators. He saw the bright orange of Alexis Castle's hair and silently breathed his gratitude and relief to the universe. "What's the situation here?"

Esposito stepped forward after a beat of watching Beckett hesitate. He'd always had her back and she was sure he always would. If Montgomery noticed, he didn't mention it, just a raised eyebrow before he gave the squad's number two his full attention.

Beckett silently waited through Esposito's report, punctuated with details provided by Ryan. Her boys' colorful descriptions and keen observations blended into the background like so much static as she watched the group of people strewn over the grass like flyaway lunch napkins taken by an updraft only to be caught on the coarse, colorless wintered blades or sitting on the foot-traffic worn steps and the weary, wooden-slatted porch of the general store. Kate noticed that everything was dull shades of brown, black and gray: the world had lost color. She pulled herself from the ledge and really looked at the people, the same people that Castle was like. They all had their eyes closed and all wore the same expression: determined and serious, as if they were all trying to solve a problem or even multiple problems. Kate ruminated as to what it could be. _'The hunger crisis, world peace…how many licks it took to get to the center of a tootsie pop,'_ Kate inhaled sharply. That last unbidden thought came to her in Castle's cheeky voice. The one she'd scolded him for many times over the years. She raised her hand to her lips, covering the smile he brought her.

Dodie, the grandmotherly woman who assured them earlier sat in the middle of the group. She had said they were trying to help. Kate let her mind and fears calm and tried to imagine how that was even possible if they were all here and he was somewhere underground, cut off. Montgomery said the Castle had gifts, abilities. They'd all seen evidence of those gifts, but she was still afraid to look closely. It was like when she was a little girl, she had been given an old sneakers box by her older cousins that purportedly held treasures and secrets, but was warned that if she looked inside they would all disappear, killing the magic forever. She obstinately refused to believe Jennifer and Kyle, but they were older and wiser, much more worldly than her admittedly sheltered, only child's life provided. Time and time again, she'd work up her courage just enough to give herself permission to peek, but then slammed the box lid down again, refusing to see its contents, refusing to kill the magic or even the possibility of it. She never opened the box, never killed the magic, but she knew it was dead. It died on a January night.

From that night forward, those possibilities had died along with her mother. Life would never be happy or carefree again: the magic would never peek out of the box and it was right: it shouldn't. Nevertheless, the world kept turning, people lived their lives, even spring blossomed and she remembered how surprised and angry she'd been that new life erupted right on schedule. How could everything just continue as if nothing happened to stop her world? How could any of the magic continue without her mom? Castle brought magic back into her life and she hated him for it.

Castle celebrated everything, every breath, every glance and smile. She had fought him, pushed him away, refused to open the box and see that he was right there. He didn't give up on her: he saw all of the magic and he'd made it his mission to open her eyes to it as well. He helped her to recognize magic, to seek her mother in everything she did and everything she saw: all the small victories like baby ducks making it across busy, unforgiving Park Avenue to the awesome sense of accomplishment when they delivered justice to a family, to enjoying a heavenly cup of coffee with a friend.

There was a collective gasp from the group and their arms shot up over their heads, palms to the sky. They looked like they were passing something over their heads, like concertgoers in the mosh pit, supporting an all too trusting singer's body solely with the collective use of their hands.

"I get it," Alexis shouted, happily and sat down next to Dodie, who received the girl with warm, opened arms.

Montgomery turned away from administering the aftermath and watched as the Aggregate, completely in the open without selfish or self-preservation motives, worked to recover Castle, together. "I'll be damned. The son of a bitch isn't even here and he's leading them." He shook his head.

Wide-eyed, Beckett asked, "Sir?"

He grinned. "You must be feeling a little like your world's been rocked, Kate."

"Not rocked, Captain, but definitely shaken…" she grinned uncontrollably and added, "not stirred." She clasped her fingers over her mouth. It was not the time for stupid Castle word plays. "Do you know? Is he alright?"

"Who?" Montgomery raised an eyebrow.

"Castle, sir: do you know if he is alive?"

Montgomery smiled kindly and rubbed his hand on Kate's upper arm paternally, squeezing before he turned from her. He hadn't given himself up yet and he wouldn't unless absolutely necessary.

"Alexis?" A familiar baritone called. Kate looked toward the welcome sound of his voice along with her partners and the former hostages. Relief: blinding and ringing relief that he was okay triggered the release of her pent up adrenaline, worry and heady intoxication of knowing he was alive, instantly turning her legs to jelly. She felt like she would fall. The captain held her up as they watched Alexis run to meet him halfway across the boardwalk by the lakebed.


	14. Metamorphosis

_A/N Dear Readers,_

 _And so here we are. Thanks for reading! Your comments in your reviews have been very encouraging. Let me know what you think about the ending._

 _There will be an epilogue posted tomorrow._

 _Enjoy!_

 _~GeekMom_

* * *

 **The Possibility of Magic**

 **Chapter 14**

 **Metamorphosis**

"Ow…ow...ow!" he grumbled. "Really?" His high-pitched complaint had his daughter rolling her eyes. "Do you have to?" Castle sat in the back of an open ambulance where the technician applied various antiseptics, balms and bandages to Castle's injuries. He'd been relieved of his tattered, Hulk-like remnants of his wet shirt and pants and sat wrapped up in a blanket, his daughter plastered as close to his side as the tech's treatments would allow.

"Dad, let her treat you," Alexis scolded.

He squeezed her under his arm as tightly as his broken ribs tolerated. "Okay, Pumpkin. I'll be fine as long as you're alright." He kissed her head and held her close. Alexis cautiously tightened her hug around his waist in response, but listened for any distress. He felt the pain, but wouldn't trade his daughter's affection and comfort for any of the best pain meds. Alexis sighed, happily absorbing her father's warmth and love, reveling in the fact that he was there with her. The technician finished, leaving them alone in the box. Castle closed his eyes and delighted in the moment, grateful to be able to hold his daughter in his arms still.

* * *

"Um…Castle?"

He opened his eyes to a very uncertain Beckett. She looked smaller somehow. He smiled and hugged his daughter. "Sweetheart, I need you to find a phone and call your grandmother. Let her know that we're all okay."

"And you need to speak to Detective Beckett," she sighed dramatically. "I get it, Dad."

As she slipped off the gurney, he snagged her back up for another hug. "Love you, Pumpkin."

Alexis kissed his cheek. "Love you, too, Dad."

He watched her go until she rounded the corner of the fire truck parked beside the ambulance, before he turned his attention to Kate.

After looking each other over he asked, "Are you okay?" at the same time that she asked, "Are you hurt?"

She dropped her head and he smiled.

"Kate?" Castle extended his hand, not the one with the splints. He was under strict orders not to walk around or even to think about leaving the back of the bus and for once he was listening without argument. The EMT looked like she could easily restrain him and take extreme pleasure while doing it. After he sarcastically pointed out that his forearm was not, in fact, a pincushion, he was sure he heard her threaten that she could save his ass or drop kick his ass; however he wanted to play it. He might have flinched…a bit…when she stuck him the first time, resulting in her poorly delivered needle to be reinserted.

Beckett looked up and tentatively smiled before taking his hand. Hauling her up into the ambulance he situated her next to him on the gurney. He didn't let go of her hand.

"I'm okay," he whispered to her, placing a kiss on her temple. She dropped her head again, curtaining her face and he could sense all the questions that she held back. "It's okay…you can ask," he said.

"There's so much."

Chuckling, he affirmed, "Yeah, I know. How about I start?"

She looked at him. He was still Castle, still looked like the same man she admired, still her favorite author, the same father to Alexis. She chickened out and nodded.

"Okay…I want to know if, after what you've seen, this changes things for you. I mean, I know you don't understand everything you might have seen and experienced and I know your sensible, pragmatic head is overloaded right now, but Kate…" he tipped her head to look at him. "I'm still me. I'm no different from the man who kissed you; God was that only a few hours ago?" He smiled, still the same cockeyed smile she loved. He raised an eyebrow. "If we truly examined the evidence closely, we'd have to find that you're the one who's different."

"Really," she scoffed.

He sighed with a grim grin, "Not including various broken bones and other minor injuries."

She placed a gentle kiss on his bruised cheek.

Castle gazed at her for a moment, before his brain was able to process anything beyond how amazing Kate Beckett was. He inhaled as deeply as the tape binding his ribs would allow.

"You have gained some rather bizarre knowledge about me and, more importantly, about the world and your universe and how it might not be exactly how you thought it was, but it's only new information. I hope, when you learn about what I can and can't do, it's not scary for you." He dropped his gaze to the scratchy dark blue blanket covering his knees.

They sat in silence for several minutes. Castle was sure he'd lost her and he wasn't at all surprised. It was a lot to take in for someone who could believe in the possibilities that we don't know everything, or believe in something having never experienced it or even known it was possible. He was sure it'd be damn near impossible for Kate. He expected her to shake his hand and tell him to have a nice life. He swallowed the bubble of grief that blocked his throat when he realized what this would mean to their partnership: not only the brand new more personal relationship, but also their partnership at the twelfth. He wouldn't be allowed back. It would be too hard for her. He pulled the blanket tighter around him as he shuddered, although it wasn't the winter air giving him chills.

Castle sat next to her, she was barely moving, just staring at the floor. He stayed quiet, waiting for her, his heart sinking deeper into a funk deeper and bluer than the blanket he wore, colder than the lake water.

"You said it wasn't magic," she breathed, brittle and fragile.

It was so quiet, even sitting next to her he almost missed it.

"What?" He jerked his head back, winced as his neck protested the sudden movement. "No, it's…no, it's not," he confirmed. A warm spot of hope kindled in his chest.

"What can you do?" He felt the shift: the universe aligning elements slamming fate into place. It was either that or his heart stumbled, stopping and restarting. Like an incendiary device; a rocket, his heart took flight as he described the basics of Aggregate history in general and then his abilities, specifically. It truly sounded stupid and rather banausic when he explained how he'd generally used his gifts: practical household tasks and practical or impractical jokes, really. Then he told her about the bomb, how the Aggregate, working together, saved them all.

"Who else can…you know."

He squeezed her hand. "I…I don't think it's my place to say. We've kept our abilities hidden for a reason, a good reason. Fear-based persecution and elimination are real things, Kate." He looked at her again and held her gaze. "I am literally trusting you to keep my secrets; my life is at stake."

Her breath hitched as she studied him.

Grinning, he elbowed her. "But that's not anything new, is it?"

"I guess not," Kate agreed. "I need time, Castle: time to take it all in. I didn't even know about the Agger…Agg…"

"Aggregate," he offered.

"Or your powers…"

Castle lifted his bandaged hand and interjected again. "Abilities. No super powers that I'm aware of, damn it."

Kate gawked at him for a second. "Okay," she huffed, "abilities…"

"Or gifts, if you like."

"Castle," she warned, becoming Beckett for a moment. He knew that he looked like an idiot. He felt the moment his jaw became unhinged and when his eyes became unfocused. He'd seen the attitude before in the box. She'd slipped into no-nonsense, badass Beckett as easily as she slipped into her fitted oxford blouses, those jeans that hugged her bits so well, and her leather jackets. The soft, black leather jacket with the mane of fringe practically killed him. He blinked and came back to the present when she snapped her fingers in front of his nose. "You okay? You kind of glazed over there for a minute."

Nodding, he sucked his lips between his teeth and mimicked locking his mouth up tight. His eyes were wide and intense on her, barely containing his delight. Kate smiled, but quickly schooled her features. "I'm not impressed," she stated, business-like, lifted her chin defiantly and shrewdly stated, "I have a feeling you can get out of most restraints."

Matching her earlier transitory smile, he opened his mouth to answer, because of all the things she'd ever said to him that deserved ad answer, this was definitely it, but she held him silent with two silken fingertips, tenderly grazing the swelling on his bottom lip ensued by Stryker's punch. "As long as you're okay, you can demonstrate your gifts for me later." She lowered her fingers and found his hand again, locking their palms together, intertwining their fingers. Looking back up at his incredulous expression, she chuckled and then sobering, she laid her head on his shoulder and whispered, "I'm open to the possibilities."

He reminded himself to breathe again before he cupped her jaw, leaned forward and kissed her and when they released each other, she asked, "Magic?"

He chuckled, nodded and leaned his forehead against hers. "Absolutely," he drunkenly confirmed, "The possibilities are endless."

* * *

"Dad? Oh, Detective Beckett: you're still here." Alexis rounded the corner of the ambulance quickly, stopping short before returning to her father's side: the place that was currently occupied by the detective. She inhaled deeply and loudly.

Moving off the gurney, Kate said, "I…I should go…"

"Kate," Castle murmured. He still held her hand, reluctant to lose the connection, but she was halfway out of the back of the ambulance.

"It's okay, Castle." She met his eyes, confidently. "I'm just going to check in with the boys. You're going to need to talk with them, too."

"I know, but not tonight. Tell them I'll catch up with them tomorrow," she nodded. "And Kate?" He pulled her back close and kissed her again. She ended it quickly, far more quickly than she wanted, but his daughter was right there. "Pass along my thanks for me?"

She smiled and finally climbed down and out of the door. Alexis smiled thinly and then rolled her eyes. Her dad saw her whole performance and fervently hoped Beckett missed it.

"Are you okay, Daddy?"

Castle chuckled to himself. Daddy was it. He opened his arms to his child. "I'm fine, Alexis. What about you?"

"I wasn't hurt, just scared."

"I know and I'm very thankful that you weren't hurt, but that's not what I was asking."

Alexis carefully applied her innocent face and smiled nervously at her father. "What do you mean, Daddy?" She sighed; the 'Daddy' was probably pushing it.

"I want to know why you just showed such blatant dis-respect for Detective Beckett."

Alexis gulped in a breath and hurriedly defending herself, she caustically whined, "She's…"

"Alexis," he said, using the 'Dad' voice. He hated bringing it out and was rarely necessary, but if he were to pursue a personal relationship with Kate, they had to clear the air and they wouldn't be able to if they began in a murky, hateful tone of voice.

Alexis worked to calm her chaotic emotions. "She's the one who puts you in danger," she blurted as her pale, porcelain complexion filled with a heated ruddiness, along with rouges of worry and confusion.

"Alexis, today wasn't about Detective Beckett or anyone else from the precinct."

"She was here."

Rick narrowed his eyes. "So were you," she looked up at him, shocked. He amended, "and me and dozens of others."

"It's just…the stuff you do with her, it could get you in…it could…you could get hurt," she finished.

"Alexis, I need you to listen to me carefully. No one is forcing me to do the things I do with the police. Matter of fact, Beckett has spent the better part of the last few years, trying to get rid of me."

"Then why do you keep going back? Why do you get pulled into things like this and whatever crisis happened yesterday? Stryker said there was a bomb?"

"Nice try, but I'm not going to tell you any details about yesterday." He pulled her close again. "Oh, Honey, I…I need you to understand that I feel like I'm contributing to something bigger than just myself, like I'm making a difference. I love writing and I'll never stop, but this is real and worthwhile."

"I can understand that. Do I have to like it?"

"No, not any more than I expect you to like Potato Chip Fudge." She wrinkled her nose in distaste. "You're really missing out, you know," he whispered against her barely visible eyebrow. Sobering, he leaned back to see her face and added, "But, I do expect you to have and show respect for the detectives and for the work they do. They are incredibly hard-working, self-sacrificing individuals and I can't and won't have you churlish." Alexis opened her mouth and he could almost predict the dissent about to tumble-out. "Ah," he stopped her. "Unlike accepting your lack of good taste in ice cream flavors, I'm not flexible about this." He kissed her temple. "I'm serious, Pumpkin."

"Okay, Dad," she said quietly. She kept her head down and fiddled with the seam on the black plastic mattress cover next to her leg. "Will you…"

"What, Sweetheart?" He sent out a quick and dirty plea to the universe that she wouldn't ask him to forget about Kate or the twelfth, because he would. He'd walk away if she asked him to.

"Will you show me what you can do?"

"What do you mean?" He was in the dark, but saw the pinpoint of a light and began to breathe again.

She scowled at him. He recognized her well-practiced 'I have to explain something freakishly simple to Dad' expression. He'd seen the look too many times to count. "Your…stuff, Dad…the gifts."

"Oh?…oh," he sat back, astonished. "I thought you didn't want to see…"

"I've been thinking." Her voice was small and she fixed her gaze on her blanching knuckles. He wished he could relieve her anxiety, but she was like her mother in that regard. Meredith got more anxious and more unreasonable when she was up for a part. Ironically, helping his ex-wife to relax and relieve tension after an audition was when Alexis had been conceived.

He sat up, listening closely. "Yes?"

"Even before today. I've thought that I need to accept everything about you." He bit his lip, gnawed at the split with his incisors. "I've decided that it's silly to be afraid of your abilities. I want to know all about you and what you can do and how it works."

"Are you sure, Pumpkin?" His heart beat hard and fast.

"I am," she said, smiling and collapsed gratefully within his arms. She had so many questions given what she'd felt and seen that day. She knew it was crazy, but when the others were working to save her dad, she felt like she was doing something too: something other than worrying and praying: helping, somehow. Maybe she had just been swept up in it all; the metaphysical possibilities and the adrenaline she'd gone through that day, after all she'd been kidnapped, seen her father taunted and tortured and ultimately triumphant over the man responsible for it all.

Castle breathed easily for the first time that day. He was exactly where he wanted to be, wrapped in his daughter's loving embrace. It didn't matter if they were situated in their living room or under the t-rex at the Museum of Natural History in the city or in the back of an ambulance after having thwarted a madman's plans to rule the world. He smiled and shook his head because the day's ludicrousness was either going to make him laugh or make him cry. He decided he'd rather do neither and pulled his girl closer, still. He'd wait to break down and give the emotions free reign later. Inhaling, he smelled her: the rudimentary scent of his baby, imprinted on his olfactory cortex as the best smell in the universe from the first time he held her in his arms. He swallowed the lump in his throat and closed his eyes, resting his head upon hers. He was content.

* * *

That was until someone cleared his throat a few moments later. He opened one eye and tensed.

"Rick? How are you doing?"

Castle inhaled sharply and lifted his head. "I'm okay." He turned his head and stared at Montgomery with cold eyes made of steel. "Alexis, I need to speak to the captain."

Alexis looked back and forth between her father and her father's close friend: a man so close to her dad that she had always referred to him as her uncle. Her dad was furious. "Okay." With one more hug she slipped off the gurney and out of the ambulance. She stopped and gave a quick, uncertain hug to her uncle Roy. "I'm glad you're here," she whispered.

Montgomery smiled. The two men watched her go.

There was silence for a beat before Roy turned back to Castle and remarked, "You look like hell."

Castle dropped his head into his hands and ground the heels of his hands into his eyes. "Well good: at least I look better than I feel."

"Rick…"

"What the hell, Roy," Castle narrowed his eyes. "Did you know about this? Did you know about Stryker or that he stole the orb?"

"I may have been privy to the theft of something powerful, but you know how it is," he implored. "You can never tell what is true and what isn't. I didn't know specifics. If I'd known it was the orb…"

"You still would have offered me up like a virgin sacrifice."

"Well, not virgin." His old friend offered a grin. "And not a sacrifice…a champion," he said smarmily.

Castle pursed his lips, which were still slightly shaded blue from his swim through the icy water and having none of it he swallowed and in a broken voice he uttered, "My daughter, Roy."

Montgomery put his hand on his friend's shoulder. "Look, nobody knew who it was or what he was doing. He protected himself well. That's what the karmic well was used for, like a duck blind," squinting at something unseen across the lake, he turned his head back to Castle and added, "I guess, kind of. The universe is all about the bigger picture: the biggest, you know that."

"So a few deaths don't matter in the grand scheme?" Castle scoffed.

Suddenly serious, Roy stated, "No, but they matter to you and me, they're tragic: any death is, but the bottom line is that they're not to the universe and you know that. If Stryker had succeeded, right now, the world would be different and you've already figured that out, too." Roy narrowed his eyes, assessing. "You've seen it, too: that damn parachronal cognition."

"You have that gift as well."

Montgomery shook his head. "Not like you. I see murky outlines, maybe a face or location once in a while. But you saw how it could have been. Alexis, your mother, my wife and kids, Beckett, they'd all be our slaves in a new order where those with gifts would rule over those without. The universe couldn't act without someone, you, drawing him out. He used the karma to camouflage and protect the orb, kept it hidden until the alignment. Then you sent up that beacon. No gifted within three states could have ignored it. Like dogs and dog whistles."

Rick grimaced. "Eloquent," he commented drily.

"Brilliant, by the way: then the universe knew just where to find him, just like a neon sign. Then they eliminated the problem."

"You know I was still connected to the orb when they began eliminating, right?"

"You survived. You have a bunch of people who helped get you out of that tunnel." He nodded his head toward the former hostages, most of them giving statements to the state police.

Castle considered his rescuers. Their statements wouldn't be the truth, the whole truth anyway. The universe was already monitoring. He could sense it. They'd all leave out anything having to do with gifts or abilities, karmic wells, the universe, source or the alignment. They'd go about their lives, hiding who they truly were, but content to make that sacrifice for the people around them and for their own preservation.

"Jackass didn't even need all those people."

"What do you mean?"

"The fourteen intersections don't work together like a cog in machinery. It's only more supposition and myth. I honestly think that whoever designed the place just liked the shape. At any rate, I didn't feel the others while engaged with the orb, except for their worry and fear, and if it worked like that, I should have. Individually, the intersections can help you focus, but they wouldn't have an effect together, not unless everyone was focusing on the exact same thing at the exact same moment. There's no way anyone could organize people, let alone Aggregate on a singular task. No, I was all he really needed was me for balance and to focus on the opposite side of the orb. Hell, he didn't even need me, you could have…"

"No, I don't think so." Montgomery cut him off. "Stryker worked awfully hard to get you, specifically you. And who the hell do you think organized the Aggregate to a singular task yesterday?"

"That was the universe."

"No, man: that was you; that was _all_ you. The universe was out. They don't care if we blow each other up. They were out today as well, until you sent up that beacon." Castle had focused some of the energy of the orb through Stryker, essentially making him glow, psychically and sent other energy pinging off of the Aggregate members held there, over and over again, creating a kind of psychic energy whirlwind, which permeated the rock and amplified by the minerals, essentially painting a target on Stryker's back.

Castle stared at his friend. That disclosure scared him to death. He'd never wanted the responsibility of leadership within the Aggregate. Stryker proved that together, they could be dangerous. If Castle had bought into Stryker's plan, they would be living in a new world with Castle cast as Göring to Stryker's Hitler. The universe couldn't or wouldn't act without Castle's targeting him. That was another thing altogether, he basically set Stryker up for death. His role made his stomach roil. He'd have to come to terms with that, as well.

' _One thing at a time,'_ he told himself.

"What about the orb?" Castle asked, needing basic facts and less personal emotions.

"What about it? Except that we as an organization _really_ need to name things better."

"No; we're not organized and we shouldn't be," he barked. Calming himself, Castle clarified, "Where did Stryker get the orb?"

If Montgomery was taken aback, he didn't let on. "I don't know," he mused and the chuckled as an idea struck him and his whole demeanor brightened. "Maybe from the aliens he wrote about."

Castle relaxed and accepted the gift of his friend's humor. "Nah, even he said they weren't real."

Montgomery drew his eyebrows together, as if in deep thought. "Maybe he just happened upon it, you know…lucky."

"Except…" Castle began his side of their life long argument and then looked at his smiling friend, who took more pleasure in baiting him than Beckett did and whose expression morphed to that of being highly amused before Castle caught on.

"Yes?" Roy prompted.

"Except this week," Castle sighed. "I must have used up all the luck in the world."

Montgomery smiled. "Like I've been saying all along, you are one lucky son of a bitch. I'm glad we finally agree."


	15. Epilogue

_A/N – Below_

 _Enjoy!_

* * *

 **The Possibility of Magic**

 **Epilogue**

"Castle!" Kate yelped from the living room, her jumping and squirming disrupted her carefully constructed cozy corner on the couch. An hour or so earlier, she had curled herself up on the soft leather couch like a cat. She had a book, the crossword and was snugly dressed in leggings and an oversized tee shirt, his. Soon, the smell of grilled cheese permeated the loft, the browned butter filling her with warmth and its aroma made her stomach grumble loudly.

It was a perfect lazy, rainy Saturday afternoon. He was writing, had whined all through their late breakfast that he had to get whatever was banging on his temporal lobe out of his brain and onto paper or the virtual paper he used now. The week had been horrendous, her training officer, Mike Royce, had been murdered. Castle did everything he could to support her and they ultimately uncovered the conspiracy and found Mike's killer. After availing themselves of the amenities that five star hotel could offer, including a couples' massage and sharing the sinfully comfortable California king and the huge Jacuzzi tub, they'd returned home on the red-eye.

They slept later than either usually did and had planned on spending the rest of the morning together, until inspiration hit. She could almost see it as the muse crept up on him between bites of toast, his eyes unfocused on their world as he listened to the whispered plot points, twists and word plays as he focused on the scene unfolding in his head. He stood at least twice; ready to abandon his breakfast for the siren's call. Kate made him wait. She found that if she grabbed his hand, she could hang onto him for a few more moments. He'd held out as long as he could before retreating to the world in his mind. She figured it must be amazing because he'd left bacon, untouched on his plate.

That's why she had built herself the couch fort and was planning his defeat during their next Scrabble battle. She grinned; she had learned a new word while completing the crossword and had been waiting to spring it on Castle, who would be out soon if he was already making lunch. She practiced the definition again: _'Appetency:_ _a longing or desire, a natural tendency or affinity.'_ She'd never heard him use the word appetency before so she thought she might have an ace in the hole. They played this game often; and not just in Scrabble, if she really thought about it, she would realize that they played the one up game in practically everything they did. Everything. She sighed serenely; he'd won that morning in bed. He had definitely won.

"Oh," she moaned, a look of pleasure on her face, but it rapidly melted into a frown and yelled, "Castle, stop!" The day had been the perfect lazy day, before he decided to play. "Cut it out," she warned and the warning sounded serious, not Kate serious, but Detective Beckett serious. "You're going to burn the sandwiches if you don't knock it off," she whined.

She had just settled back into the cradling cushions, her breath hitched on the gasp stuck in her throat, and she closed her eyes. Her legs dropped open and she sighed enjoying the sensations before her eyes flew open and she slammed her knees together. "Augh! That's it," Kate growled, finally abandoning her warm and cozy nest. She marched into his office to find him typing furiously. "Castle," she began, but he held her own finger to her lips. He didn't even look up, which was a good thing because he would have been shot with the daggers shooting from her eyes. Kate pursed her lips and ground her teeth before huffing as she crossed her arms in front of her chest. She actually tapped her fuzzy socked foot against the hardwood while she glared at him. Her dramatics were lost on him, but they made her feel better. Usually, she didn't disturb him while he was writing, but he started it and to feign being hard at work after…she inhaled loudly followed by a sharp huff of an exhale.

* * *

Castle typed for another couple of minutes, the words flowing unabated and inspired before he slowed and then stopped, re-read and then hit save. Kate slowly built up her indignant rage until she was just under boiling.

"Booyah! And I'm done." He raised his head to look at her over the top of his laptop, looking very pleased with himself only to see a very perturbed girlfriend standing in the doorway. He tried to solve the mystery, _'Maybe she was bored of entertaining herself and is pissed off because I've been writing all morning.'_ His grin widened. _'Yep; that's it, can't go for…'_ he looked at his watch, _'shit, four hours without me.'_

"Hey, sorry that took so long," he greeted contritely with a bright smile, which almost instantly turned lecherously playful. "Muse?" he addressed, teasing her. She absolutely hated it when he called her Muse and had warned him several times that his manhood would be forfeit if she heard it again. He countered, that if the shoes fit, she should wear them. "You inspire the most concupiscent scenes, which then I have to work hard to clean up so they are fit for publication, but it was so hot…"

"Hey?" she repeated, ignoring the Muse designation. "What the hell do you think you were you doing?"

He thought for a moment. The journey was always slow going when he came back to this world from Nikki's. Guessing he answered, "Um…writing?"

"I know that," she scoffed impatiently. "I mean the other thing." She tapped her fluffy pink sock against the oak again.

He raised his eyebrows and she could almost see the lightbulb flicker to life above his head. "Oh, the sandwiches? I took them off a couple of minutes ago, but…that wouldn't make you scowl like this." He melodramatically aped her scowl.

"No, Castle, _not_ the sandwiches: I mean the…you just pinched my ass…twice and then…"

"What?" he squawked. She never knew when to believe him. She couldn't go by the expression on his face; it always screamed guilt, even when she knew he hadn't done anything. Castle was a fixer: when something wasn't right, he took on the fault whether he was actually responsible or not. She'd seen it manifest after inconsequential stuff, like when the concert she'd hoped to attend had sold out, even faster than Castle's guy could secure tickets to when he assumed culpability for Dick Coonan's death. He had broad and generous shoulders, but because he accepted blame that was and wasn't his alike, he always appeared to be guilt-ridden. It was like a reverse poker face and just as tough to decipher. "I didn't, Kate. I swear." He stood hastily, ignoring the stiffness in his back and knees to quickly circumvent the desk and stand in front of her. Offering a shy smirk he whispered, "It's much more fun to do that kind of stuff myself."

"Then what happened? I'm not crazy. You pinched me and then I felt your fingers up…" she dropped the description of the event before giving him ideas. A slow smile that dripped with lust spread across his face. Kate lifted her shoulders defiantly, except the movement also thrust out her chest. Castle took that as encouragement. She held out her palm to her rapidly advancing lover. "Stop, I'm serious, Castle. You can't just do that whenever you want."

Castle raised his eyebrows and Kate recognized the look. He was filing the idea or information away for use at a later time. "Kate, I would never…You have my word as a Spaniard, Kate. I didn't manipulate any part of your body with any part of mine including my mind. I think you were just thinking about me, missing me and you imagined it." He looked wistfully toward that inner place only he could see where his imagination painted beloved stories. Returning to her, he leaned forward, nudging her shoulder with his he breathed, "God, that's kind of hot," in her ear. He grinned, licentiously and continued in his best theory tossing voice. "Maybe, you just want me that badly…again…and so soon…too. You may be insatiable, Detective," he asserted. "It's tragic, really; suffering appetency for me."

Kate felt her eyes widen and she set her jaw. "I did _not_ imagine it…and it's no good; I've known too many Spaniards and since when do you know that word?" His grin, if possible, spread even wider. He'd never dated someone who could hit pop-culture references back at him as if they were lobbed in a tennis match. Gina had never seen Star Wars and that alone should have sent him to therapy and screaming in terror away from the church and Meredith only understood them if she had been in the movie. The only problem was that no one quoted _Beauty School Zombies_ or _The Adventures of Coco the Cocker Spaniel in the Mall of America_.

She huffed, rolled her eyes and strode from the room. Castle ran after her and grabbed her arm, spinning her around. "Kate really, I didn't…I'm sorry for making fun…" He drifted off. He was no longer looking at her, but he had retreated into his mind, she recognized the look from whenever he was immersed in his writing, working out how a murder had been committed or when something took a hold of his imagination. Alexis said that he took her there once and the only remarkable thing she could say was how surprisingly quiet it had been.

"Castle?"

"Look, it's never happened before, but I think my subconscious mind tweaked your cheek." He grinned because of his rhyming word play; an expression of delight lit his face.

"Oh come on. You seriously expect me to believe that?"

He stopped at the base of the stairs, placed his hands on the balustrade and lifted his eyes to the second floor. Scowling he turned to her. "It's either that or Alexis," he tilted his chin to the steps, "has been practicing her new found abilities," he shook his head, "but given your description; that's just so wrong on so… many…levels." He scowled again. "I thought she was still using my ping pong balls to practice," he mused. Grimacing in distaste, which he did anytime he thought adult thoughts as applied to his daughter, and then he shook his head like a dog trying to dry his wet coat. "Nope, I can't go there." His whole body shuddered. Looking her in the eye he professed, "Kate, I adamantly believe that the theory that postulates that my subconscious felt you up is true."

She shook her head; she knew him too well. Raising an eyebrow, she challenged, "Prove it, lexicon."

"Prove?" He frowned. "Prove what?" He held out his hands as if he were weighing evidence. Turning over a palm, he restated the theory. "That my subconscious mind thinks you're as hot as I do?" He dramatically placed his left hand over his chest and raised his right hand as if he were taking an oath, schooling his face, he solemnly avowed, "Okay, done: I admit it, freely, on behalf of both of my minds. There's no way my subconscious mind doesn't love you as much as I do." He cupped her elbows; her arms still folded protectively over her chest, and drew her against his chest. He coiled his arms further around her waist as he pulled her in. Inhaling the intoxicating cherries deeply, he said his hundredth prayer of thanks (so far that day) to the universe that she was there, that they were them.

"You're impossible," she shrugged out of his grasp and went to the kitchen.

He followed, happily adding, "maybe, but you love me."

She shot a glance at the lovable goofball over her shoulder. He was right; she had fallen for him. He had also been right that out of the two of them, she had changed. She appreciated him now; she learned to accept his affection freely and his family's approval. It was overwhelming at times and then, because he no longer had to hide from him, she'd catch him manipulating nature and physics and she'd retreat, immediately missing him.

Sometimes she feared she had succumbed to his charms too quickly, but then he'd do something that made her fall in love with him all over again. She accused him of manipulating her in a horrendous fight and learned that he couldn't do that, make her fall in love with him, even if he wanted to. Despite all she had learned and all he had taught her, the gifts that he'd kept hidden so well his entire life scared her. They were powerful and largely, unpoliced. She'd been uncertain and afraid of him after Saranac, even though he still looked like Castle, still spewed unbelievable theories like Castle, still showered her with all the banter, teasing, the times she'd caught him watching her with such love in his eyes…her coffee. He still brought her semi-obscene coffees.

He still…

She stopped at the sight in front of her. Not only had he finished and plated their simple lunch, but he set the table complete with a raggedy bouquet of silk magician's flowers. The same flowers she'd presented to him after they'd solved Zalman Drake's murder. He had just broken up with Gina and she had tried to make him feel better. She had still been with Josh, but Castle was already her best friend. After they got together, he confessed that he really needed a friend that night and that they were the first flowers anyone had ever given him. She remembered feeling skeptical, thinking he was just milking the moment. How could he have not received _any_ flowers from anyone ever? He'd been married, twice; he had his mother and his daughter. Then, once she believed him, she'd been sad for him. He'd kept them: of course he had and now they were on their table.

"Castle…" She quieted when she felt his hands on her shoulders behind her. He caressed and rubbed, threading the loose strands of her hair back behind her ear and she leaned into his touch. She turned around to him, eyes closed ready to fall into one of his kisses, but...nothing happened. She opened her eyes when he didn't kiss her. She blinked and then saw him. He was standing, rocking really and grinning, very pleased with himself…still across the room.

Kate growled and stormed toward him and he smiled even wider, the impossible man. She stopped in front of him and cocked an eyebrow. "What just happened?"

"That wasn't my subconscious," he said, simply. "It's good to know that there will always be new possibilities," he delightedly said.

Kate narrowed her eyes as she stepped into his actual arms. "Always."

* * *

 _Acknowledgements_

 _Well._

 _Wow, that was an interesting exercise in writing. I found myself daunted by the story once I'd realized where it wanted to go. Inspired by a line delivered for humor by a secondary character and building an alternate reality from it, tested my capabilities. Even though there are always the melancholy at the end of a story, I'm happy with the result, judging by the smile that just spread across my face. (I may have shouted a Castle-like 'Boo Yah' also). I'm not sure what genre I'll settle into next, but if you'll follow and read, I'll keep experimenting._

 _I'd like to thank everyone who has taken a moment to leave a comment. I promised I will respond and I will. I'm going to write and post a new chapter for The Courtship of Katherine Beckett first. I've seriously neglected that romance in favor of sloughing through the icy lake water of supernatural fantasy. I also have another waiting in the wings, as well as an update for Martha's Heart. If you haven't already done so, please follow me so you don't miss any new stories._

 _My deepest appreciation goes to all 184 of you who have either followed this story or added it to your favorites list or both. To me, that's like buying the book instead of borrowing it. What an incredible compliment._

 _My heart to the best cheerleaders: concreteangel16, Deputy Hot Stuff, FuelDH206 and operaluvr who are also the best friends I've never met. (we live in a brave new, but weird world)._

 _Finally, to Aalon and Perspex13- you guys rock and if I'm ever half the writer either of you are, I'll be happy…Nah, just kidding, we all are awesome! Readers, read their stories. It will be well worth your time…unless, you know, you have to choose. Then it's mine, choose mine. ;-)_

 _One last shout out to 12precinct42344 – I wish I could take all the wonderful things you written to me and send them back to you to help in your fight. Always in my prayers. 3_

 _I've been asked if I will continue this universe and at this juncture, all I can write is that if the universe wants to make it happen, I'm open to some manipulation of nature and physics and the possibilities._

 _Always,_

 _~GeekMom_


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